


Scrutinizing souls

by Sleepy_Hellfire_Anger



Category: The Alienist (TV), The Alienist Series | Dr. Lazlo Kreizler Series - Caleb Carr
Genre: A bit of humour, Basically every character will be mentioned, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, I don't know what else to write but really, I wrote this out of pure spite, M/M, Mostly novel-compliant, One-Sided Attraction, One-sided John/Laszlo, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Read the books, Season2 sucked, So read the books before you read this, Some use of the J-word, Trust me you won't be disappointed, a lot of suffering, john is a disaster, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 22,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28548846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepy_Hellfire_Anger/pseuds/Sleepy_Hellfire_Anger
Summary: "Something in John’s heart breaks a little, and he can’t point out what exactly it is."Or: since season 2 was the utter disappointment it was, here is a rewriting of the whole thing in a string of little scenes mostly novels-compliant. John is completely lost for Laszlo but of course Laszlo doesn't even see it, let alone reciprocate. The cases they work on are difficult and dangerous, but keeping on seeing Laszlo while knowing it can never work is a kind of strain John is not capable of bearing. Luckily Joseph sticks around in this little fic.
Relationships: Joseph & John Schuyler Moore, Laszlo Kreizler/John Schuyler Moore, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 30





	1. PROLOGUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> So: season 2 sucked and I completely refuse to think of it as canon. On October 31 I was like "well, in the books John definitely is way too much devote to Laszlo to think of him as only a friend, but since I hated his romances in this season and I don't ship them I'm going to write his diary in which he confesses he loves Laszlo but it will always be unrequited".  
> Two months later I had these 22k words written out of pure hatred for season 2 and it turned out quite differently from what I imagined, but I enjoyed it so maybe some of you might enjoy as well!
> 
> This is very novel-compliant and I didn't want to turn it into a complete rewriting of both novels, so many things will be incomprehensible if you haven't read the books.  
> I will write the basics about the book canon (plotlines, characters...) at the end of most chapters so you can understand it, but I can't stress enough how much I recommend you read both novels, they're really, really good.  
> I'll try to update every two-three work days. I'm not a native English speaker so there might be some mistakes or some "strange" syntax. Feel free to point it out!
> 
> Let's thank (or blame) @cavalier_shallot for convincing me to publish this thing and... let's go!

_Late 1880_

His brother is dead. He fell from a boat and drowned. Now he’s underground and John is with Grandma Lizzie, and the both of them is silent.

Laszlo came earlier and he expected his friend to try and start a sermon on how to face grievance but he didn’t, they just… stayed together. He stayed there, paced around the room, exchanged meaningless small talk with Grandma – John guesses it was quite hard for him too, because Laszlo speaks a lot but rarely says something shallow. They had tea and biscuits, and Laszlo made sure he ate and drank.

«Theodore and I will not leave, just so you know.» he said gently, his already low voice even lower «I know those are difficult times, but it will get better, I hope, eventually.»

John hasn’t said it to him, because he doesn’t want to, but he’s really thankful for his concern and he appreciates his company maybe more than he should. He also appreciated that Laszlo gave him a journal for his thoughts and asked him to call if the pain becomes too much.

He cries himself to sleep tonight, but that’s normal.

_1882_

Frances is laughing, John is not.

They all are reunited around a table at Delmonico’s, Laszlo is telling something funny about some child at his new Institute – and the goddamn shrew laughs like her life depended on it. John knows he should be happy Laszlo has finally someone to care for him, but he just… doesn’t think that Frances Blake is the right choice.

She is pretty – blue eyes and gorgeous laugh he must admit. But something is _off_ with her, something that John can’t quite describe but that Laszlo, with his work, should see more clearly. The fact is: Laszlo is in love. So he doesn’t get that she doesn’t actually love him for him nor has the warmth and patience necessary to deal with him on a daily basis. John sees his eyes sparkle when he looks at her laugh, and his heart just aches a little, because Laszlo will never be actually happy with her. Even though he says he will be, even if they’ve known Frances for quite some time now, it just doesn’t feel right.

_1883_

Why did he even agree to go dancing with his friends?

It’s not that he doesn’t like dancing or pretty dames – he does. Laszlo and Theodore both say that maybe if he found some nice woman to be with his melancholy would lessen. But as he watches Laszlo float on the floor with Frances he doesn’t feel _less melancholic_ , he feels a little upset. They have been together for over a year now – and the shrew keeps on being a shrew. Of course she wants the good, gentle, and most importantly very rich Doctor to wed her. What she doesn’t want clearly is being a companion to him, a partner, a friend before a wife.

Would she even want to _be bed_ by him? That’s an important part of marriage and they never seemed intimate, not anymore than Laszlo is with him at least.

And he _definitely_ doesn’t want Laszlo to bed him.

He looks nice in an evening suit for once, though. _You see Laszlo, you can look nice, and the lame arm is not so noticeable_ , John thinks to himself while taking another whiskey. He’s still quite the worst dancer among their company of friends – what God gave him intellectually, he took from him on a physical level. But tonight he looks relaxed and happy and John has rarely seen him this way.

When the company part ways because the evening is over, he catches a glimpse of something he didn’t expect:

Frances

kisses

Laszlo.

He doesn’t know why this makes him even more upset.

_1884_

Thank God, she finally left.

_1884 (some days later)_

Apparently she’s gone because she was jealous. Laszlo is taking care of a new case: someone who, like Cyrus, will probably go to live with him. Problem is, that _someone_ is a seventeen years old girl. Laszlo says this over dinner, after they’ve long discussed Theodore’s departure and grievance as well, they always do when they see each other or some other friend, and John is impressed in seeing that he doesn’t look miserable in acknowledging he doesn’t have a fiancee anymore.

«Aren’t you… sad?» he carefully tries to ask.

Laszlo looks at him with something that quite resembles amusement.

«Not at all. I was yesterday, today… I am relieved. We were not… right for each other, John. I hope she finds someone she’s more compatible with.»

The conversation then shifts and doesn’t go back to that subject.

_1885_

Mary is overall lovely and cooks excellently, plus she doesn’t speak. If she wasn’t so young (way too young for the Doctor to think of her as anything else than a child he wants to help) she would have been a big threat for any wife, but she is young. Still, John is happy Frances left and Mary stays, because she’s a nice girl even if she did ugly things.

_1890_

Julia Pratt makes him happy. He is the happiest he’s ever been. When he kisses that rosy mouth he feels more inebriated than he does when he drinks. When he puts his nose in her soft red hair he feels in a paradise that belongs only to him. Julia is the answer to anything in life, and he wants to make her his wife (oh he could become a poet now!). He wants to live with her and make her strong coffee in the morning and not go gambling ever again.

Or maybe… one time a month.

That would be nice and sane he supposes. One night a month of fun.

Yes, that would be a good compromise between his normal lifestyle and a good married life. He will be a good husband to Julia and a good father, and Laszlo will be his best man and his children might even call him uncle. Or whatever the German word for _uncle_ is.

_1893_

He starts to think that something is _off_ with Julia too. Laszlo is worrying about him but he can just stay there and listen to him complain, and he doesn’t want to berate him with his own burden: they are friends and they should be sharing happiness and fun. And instead… his heart aches for this girl. When he looks in her dark eyes he doesn’t feel the warmth, the love, he felt before.

«Are we good, Julia?»

«Yes, we are. I love you.»

But it feels fake and forced.

Maybe this is because he gambles and drinks. He tries not to but it’s hard. And he also wants to… well… do the do with women. Julia doesn’t seem to want to sleep with him, so staying faithful becomes harder by the day.

Yet he tries. Because he loves her. He wants a life with her and many pretty children with grey and dark eyes.

_1894_

All the effort has been useless since she’s gone, too, now.

She loves another. Fred, Francis, something like that, something he hates and loathes and Laszlo is with him in calling her not so nice names. So is Theodore: he’s back to New York and this makes John happy, in some ways, at least he has his friends to help him.

He doesn’t want to think about his own feelings, though.

He wants to drink. He wants to bet on a roulette and on cards.

He wants to fuck some girl senseless.

And instead he gets Laszlo who wants to talk, with his low, soft voice, and his rough, manly beard, and his eyes darker than Julia’s and his way too gentle features.

Laszlo was relieved when he was let down.

John is not.

Laszlo doesn’t understand him. Why does he even try?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Novel canon things you should know (may contain spoilers):
> 
> \- Frances Blake is canonically Laszlo's first (and last) fiancee. We don't know much about her beside that they met while Laszlo was at Harvard and that John disliked her.  
> \- in 1884 Theodore Roosevelt's first wife, Alice, died in childbirth and Theodore left New York for a decade, leaving the child to his sister. You can read that on Wikipedia!  
> \- Mary Palmer is taken in by Laszlo in 1884, when she's seventeen and he's twenty-nine. Cyrus joins them in 1887, Stevie in 1895.  
> \- Julia Pratt (John's fiancee) left him two years before the events in the first novel/first season of the show.  
> \- all of the other dates are quite made up since they were not specified.


	2. March 1896-June 1896

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oboy, here the Beecham case starts!  
> As you might see, John's not that interested in the case itself, here.

_March 1896_

How did he find himself in this situation?

He doesn’t know. He could have some nice months of peace and instead he just tried to convince Sara to join him and Laszlo in a clandestine investigation of some sort, about some hideous creature that murders and tortures children. And he did so because Laszlo said so.

Sara of course will say yes. She might be unwilling to cooperate with _him_ specifically, but this is a big gruesome affair and she _loves_ that kind of stuff even more than Laszlo himself does. And he is acting all annoyed (he _is_ annoyed, this is a big gruesome affair and he _loathes_ that kind of stuff) but he is also somewhat… happy. Because he gets to spend time with his friends and do stuff behind Theodore’s back. Yes, he hasn’t forgiven Theodore for leaving yet, he gets that he lost his wife and was probably in more pain than anyone can imagine, but he felt let down. _They were friends_. And friends don’t leave each other like this. Plus the man abandoned his own child, what kind of father does this? The poor little girl.

So yes, being mischievous with Sara and Laszlo is actually quite tempting.

_April 1896_

They are searching for a monster. John wants said monster to be dead and won’t apologize for it.

He’s having troubles sleeping at night and usually he would drink more to soothe himself but he needs to be lucid and intoxication won’t help his nightmares go away. Sara and Laszlo seem to be incredibly engaged in this job, he is not. But he won’t leave.

Because children are dying and he is seeing how their usual life is and it’s horrible, and he wants things to change. He draws the scenes he sees every evening, Grandma is happy because he spends more time at home. But the fact is: he also wants his life back. He wants to be unaware of how bad things are in the streets, he wants to gamble and fuck and drink and not spend so much time having these two and those Isaacson guys around: (they’re fine and he likes them but) they all are so clever and engaged and _fit_ for doing this, while _he is not_. And he is afraid that they’ll exclude him, or that it’ll ruin their friendship, because he is already bickering with Laszlo.

And things are not good if they bicker. Things are not good if those fierce eyes look at him with disdain.

_May 1896_

He is starting to worry. Not only about children, about their own safety, because apparently real police (yes, Marcus and Lucius are real police, but most other cops seem not to like them) doesn’t want them to investigate. Why?

Laszlo has no answer for that. Nor has anyone else because _if he doesn’t then nobody does_.

The fact is: John has never actually taken time to notice just how much Laszlo’s mind is different to anyone else’s, how much more _clever_ he is. Lucius seems to be kind of a match to him, but he’s younger and less confident, and since John is fully aware that Lucius’s mind is completely out of his league of understanding he’s starting to be somewhat _intimidated_ by Laszlo, for the first time in… about thirty years? He doesn’t remember a time before knowing his friend, can’t imagine a life without seeing his asymmetric walk and his strong, apparently detached attitude…

And he is worrying again. What if this monster decides he’s had enough of them? What if the police turns against them instead?

They are going to be in so, so much trouble.

_June 1896_

There is definitely something weird going on with Laszlo, Sara and Mary. Sara told him that Mary is in love with Laszlo and he has no reason to assume she’s lying.

Poor creature, she must feel so miserable, loving that man. Laszlo is intelligent and educated and also generally speaking a good person of course, but _even if he could feel something for her_ he must be terrible as a fiance, or at least John supposes so. Maybe he should ask Frances, but she’s a shrew and therefore her opinion is invalid. Maybe he’s just a bit envious, thinking that women must have terrible taste if they’d rather fawn over Laszlo than himself. He just feels alone, maybe.

John is aware of being more handsome. Everyone says he is the handsome one, tall and grey-eyed and tempestuous. Plus he is… how to put it gently? He is intact. All of his limbs are equally developed. He also prides himself in being an overall comely fellow: women laugh when he jokes, people seem to find him a good friend and company. Yes, he has some vices: what man doesn’t in this horrifying world? Grandma can frown all she wants, he’s not worse than others. At least he doesn’t fuck little boys for a penny and a chocolate cream, or kill them.

So he reckons it’s just plain, simple envy for a man who seems to have started to charm ladies more easily than he does. And this envy is stupid because they have better thing to worry about, the case for instance, but he can’t help feeling it.

Of course Sara (witty Sara, sassy Sara, challenge-loving Sara) would have been fascinated by his cold ass. And by the fact that he seems utterly uninterested in taming her, which is actually something new for her. John is a little ashamed of knowing that he himself has tried to, but isn’t it how things are… supposed to be? She is not immune from being a woman and he is nothing but a normal, absolutely normal man. Isn’t it natural, maybe, that a man would want a wife to take care of him as he takes care of her?

However, why does he even bother with wondering what’s going on with those three? Of course he cares: he loves Laszlo, he loves Sara, and Mary too. But why is he this desperate to know the exact dynamics of this triangle? Must just be because he feels excluded. He feels alone. He feels (oh, what a glorious little joke) _alienated_ from them, from his friends.

That, he tries to tell himself, tossing and turning while his sheets feel so cold, so damn cold, even in a warm June night.

_June 1896 (some days later)_

Apparently he was quite mistaking.

And he’s actually terrified.

Because Laszlo is in love, and is going to marry the woman, and the woman is Mary, and John has no idea how to feel.

Actually he is afraid mostly because two men have just tried to kill them, John has a good grasp on the concept of _priorities_ , thank you very much. But since the menace seems to be gone it’s easier to focus on the more mundane thing he supposes, a way to protect himself from the death dread.

Is she going to be his wife?

So they will… have children maybe?

Laszlo is drifting off, so he doesn’t ask. His face softens while he sleeps, his hair is falling on his brow, his clothes are ripped and dirty, and yet his face softens. And John wonders what his children, Mary’s children, would look like ( _hauntingly beautiful_ , whispers a little voice in the back of his head, _with deep dark eyes that can scrutinize souls_ ).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Novel canon things you should know (may contain spoilers):  
> \- John never gets assaulted in the book, so I decided to keep it that way. I might want him to suffer but I'm not that cruel.  
> \- John pouts for an entire page about his assumption that Sara and Laszlo are developing a romantic bond.


	3. June 1896

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very short. Sorry not sorry.

_June 1896 (one day later)_

She is dead.

Hurt fills his soul as he stays in the rain with Laszlo, unable to even have him acknowledge his presence.

_Mary is dead._

She will never get to be a wife or a mother. She had just a glimpse of happiness, before being thrown down the stairs and dying in a desperate attempt at protecting her darlings. She will not get to be happy again.

And maybe, neither Laszlo will.

John just stands in the cold rain, watching his friend, trying to share his grief, his burden. He can’t but tries nonetheless, that’s what friends are for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to take a moment of silence for Mary.  
> We will not see her friends and Laszlo grieve her here (there was no need, canon material is already great), but I wanted to take a moment for her.
> 
> Novel canon things you should know (may contain spoilers):  
> \- in the novel there is no funeral scene and what happens is that John gets called by Sara, informing him that something terrible happened and Laszlo is at the morgue. John gets there and finds Laszlo in a catatonic state in the rain. So this is what happens here, too.


	4. August 1896

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got nothing to say here, just... thank you for sticking with me I guess? 💙

_August 1896_

The monster ( _Japeth_ , he tries to call him by his name, a man, not a monster. But it’s hard) is dead.

Connor is dead.

Sara saved them both.

This doesn’t make anything better, for now, because those who are dead will remain dead. And because Laszlo was a little shit.

He goes home taking Joseph with him, Grandma’s complaints be damned, and has him have a bath and some clean clothes before washing himself, putting a night shirt on and collapsing on his bed, trying hard not to think about what happened. He stares at the ceiling, unsure on how to feel, until he hears some soft knocks at the door.

«Come in!»

He expected the maid, or maybe Grandma herself. It’s Joseph instead, and he’s relieved to see the boy, not much more dressed than he himself is, but clean and probably fed.

«Joseph. How are you?»

Joseph nods and comes sitting on the bed, next to him.

«You want something? Are you hungry?»

A little shake of his head.

«No, the woman fed me. I just…»

John has learnt some little tricks from Laszlo, so he doesn’t force the boy to speak. He will when he has the right words. And he does.

«I was wondering, why are we here?»

«This is my house, Joseph. I live here.»

Maybe he hadn’t gotten this, so John tries to explain it in a gentle tone.

«Yes. And the old woman is your… grandmother?»

«Yes, she is.»

«Why am I here?»

He just seems so puzzled, confused, unable to grasp a reason for anything that happened. And John is not sure that he gets what happened, maybe he doesn’t remember.

«Can you recall what happened in the last days?»

Joseph’s eyes fixate on the wall as he tries to think.

«I was in the pool. And he found me. The evil man you were searching for.»

That is correct, so he encouragingly nods.

«And you… and your friend, the… Doctor?» another nod from John «You saved me. And then came the cops. And the blonde lady? And the evil man is gone?»

«Yes, that’s it.»

«She had a gun.»

«She always has, but she won’t shoot you.»

«And then we came here.»

«And then we came here.»

He doesn’t seem satisfied with the explanation, poor little thing. Confusion is still visible on his little face.

« _Why have you brought me here?_ »

_August 1896 (some days later)_

Laszlo and him are in the former’s office. Joseph is doing… _some_ … _boys stuff_ … outside, with Stevie. Which is worrisome in itself, but John supposes that it’s fine to let him interact with someone his age.

Apparently, the kid was under the impression that now John wanted… well, wanted him to be his kept boy. And he was confused because usually rich guys don’t bring their dirty little secrets at home to their relatives, nor just… feed and wash them and let them wander around, it seems. So he couldn’t understand.

They have spoken a lot, Laszlo, Joseph and himself, and he hopes that the child has wrapped his mind around the fact that nobody will abuse him ever again. John has put his own anger towards Laszlo aside to help Joseph, it would be a great disappointment if it didn’t work, and now Laszlo is just… staring at the void, lost in his thoughts. John breaks the quite uncomfortable silence.

«Do you think he can… recover? Become _normal_ , if that makes sense?»

His friends finally looks at him, unreadable face that betrays some tiredness if not else.

«Yes, I think he will get better. But it’ll take time, and patience, and work. I will… see him. Once every two weeks. If you don’t mind.»

«Of course I don’t, why would I? You are the best at your job, you’ve just _proven it_!»

«You flatter me, John. Really. But… I think that we actually should talk a little, _if_ you don’t mind.»

His heart skips a beat and he takes a deep breath. That serious tone promises no good, and he doesn’t like that.

«Of course, I don’t have any other business now.»

«I owe you an apology, my friend.»

That wasn’t what John expected, of course, and his jaw almost drops.

«I put you at a great risk and… it wasn’t fair of me.»

There is pain, a deep pain that he doesn’t try to conceal, in his electric gaze.

«I understand your anger. You have any right to feel bad about me, I betrayed your trust. I wasn’t… I am not… my best self, now. And I cannot promise you it will get better.»

Something in John’s heart breaks a little, and he can’t point out what exactly it is.


	5. October 1896-November 1896

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I will probably update again tomorrow since I have an exam on the 14th and that means I have to wake up at 5 to take the bus.  
> Ugh.

_October 1896_

It’s slowly getting better. They could organize a nice dinner together – the whole of them, at Delmonico’s.

John stares at Laszlo across the table: wonders how he’s doing now, how he can look still so elegant and fine without Mary helping him out with little tasks. Who is washing his clothes? Who is trimming his beard and making sure he eats enough for breakfast?

Laszlo looks back at him.

«Are you… alright, John? You seemed pretty concentrated on my beard.»

There is a hint of irony in his voice, even though he doesn’t smile. John has never seen him do it since… well… Japeth’s death, let’s say. Mostly because they actually don’t see each other very much now, he has only a few minutes with Laszlo when he brings Joseph to the Institute, because they are both working and the time for their friendship is scarce. Sara sees him more often and John is not entirely sure he’s happy with that. But currently Sara is looking at Marcus and laughing at some shitty joke he said and well, Marcus is a comely fellow isn’t he? Perhaps he doesn’t have to worry about _that_.

«I was just… wondering how you’re doing.»

Which is true, so why has he gotten so defensive? He tries to relax. And Laszlo’s head tilts a bit, his gaze focuses on him and his lips press a bit together. His face is overall gentle, John knows that, children love him, Joseph is completely enamored with him: so why is he intimidated and defensive? Why?

«I’m… fine. At least I’m at the finest I can be, I guess. I am sorry about not being a good company tonight, I’m aware it’s been some rough months and I still have much to apologize for. I am… trying to figure out what can I do to make it even.»

Oh.

 _Lazlo thinks he’s angry_. Or at least upset.

He is not, even if he knows he would have any right to be, for how many times Laszlo _deliberately lied to him_ , he just… _can’t_. Laszlo does it to protect himself and for a better world, it’s a good enough motive he guesses.

«I am not angry at you. I’m just _worrying_ about you, we haven’t spoken properly in a while!»

Laszlo sighs, shakes his head, runs his good hand through his hair. A little golden sparkle can be seen in the lamplight.

«I know, and I’m sorry for it. I needed to… elaborate what happened.»

«You can do it with me, we are friends, that’s what friends are for!»

Laszlo glances at the others: Theodore, Lucius and Marcus – and lastly, pretty Sara in her deep green dress. They all are distracted by Theodore telling some war anecdote, not caring about them now.

«I am aware. But I am also aware I can’t have you take my burden…»

«You _did_ with mine!»

«It’s not the same.»

John pauses for a little while, takes a deeper breath. Laszlo sighs, forces a smile that doesn’t even reach his cheekbones (one day John will tell him that his round, high cheekbones reveal whether he’s faking a smile or not) and shifts the conversation.

«I thought that you would… ask her to marry you.»

 _Her_ being Sara.

«Have you _lost your mind_? She pushed me in the river the first and last time I tried. I won’t try again.»

«Then I clearly overestimated your interest in her, I guess?»

He has. John chuckles a bit, sincere.

«I think we work better as friends.»

_November 1896_

Theodore is leaving again, soon enough. This time at least he stays where he is reachable by train and telephone, John consoles himself in that knowledge.

Sara is inconsolable, though. Not because she cares enough about Theodore to be bothered, no: because she’ll lose her job, and this is reasonable, he’s upset too anytime the _Times_ decides he’s “ _unfit for his role_ ”. Which has happened more than once, but he is not going to think about that, not while they are all sitting in Laszlo’s living room.

Or, better, the men are sitting and the woman – amazing Sara herself – is pacing around like a golden lioness in a cage. Nobody tries to stop her: they all know better.

«Sara, darling…»

«Don’t call me that.»

«Sorry. Sara, _not-so-darling_ …»

John chuckles a little and Marcus tries to hide a sly smile. She stops and glares at Laszlo.

«You think you’re funny don’t you?»

He seems unimpressed, John tries to warn him.

«Laszlo, you’d better apologize to her, she might be hiding…»

« _Spare me_ , John. Just spare me!»

She hasn’t even looked at him, her blue eyes fixated into Laszlo’s, in a way he’s actually never seen nobody keep for so long. Nobody usually resists under his gaze, but she seems to love challenging him… even though he actually asked for it this time.

«I am going to lose my job. Do you get this? Do you understand this?»

Laszlo nods and John stays silent as he’s been told. He is a good man, write this on the record.

«What… what am I going to do now?»

She seems so lost, for a moment the strong, invulnerable facade she puts up breaks and they all can see that even she, after all, is but a terrified young woman… Marcus raises an eyebrow, Lucius taps his foot on his armchair, unable to speak, and as her eyes dart away it’s Laszlo who breaks the silence.

«There is always me. I already told you.»

John glances at him. _Pardon?_

«And I already told you no. Why, just why you men can’t seem to wrap your minds around a no?»

«I am not trying to force you, I just can’t help you in any other way, no matter how much I want to.»

Is he wrong or his tone has softened a bit? He’s as usually calm and collected, of course. He has the voice of a nighttime storyteller – John bets that if he had children of his own he would never have any problem putting them to bed. But in this precise moment he’s even a little more soothing than his usual. John is not sure about what is going on, but he’s more attentive now. He observes as she lifts her eyes again, meeting Laszlo’s, this time with a defeated look on her visage.

«And what would I even do? I am… terrible around children, I’m afraid.»

«That is not true, Joseph loves you, and so does Stevie!»

He knows he should be silent but he couldn’t help but interrupt. Even if the words that comes out of his mouth come with a little anguish attached to them – a wrench at the heart he can’t explain. He doesn’t want her to work with Laszlo, it just sounds like a terrible idea, but… it would be _unfair_ towards her to let her think that.

«Come on… Marcus, Lucius, _Cyrus_ , you know it’s not true!»

They all nod in agreement before speaking in a little choir:

«Yeah… not terrible… not true… they love you…»

She sighs, just as defeated as before, and Laszlo speaks again.

«I understand that you do not feel that working with children, especially such _troublesome_ ones, is not the career path you dreamed of, and it is not what I had in mind. I thought your competence would have come in handy in trials.»

She gently shakes her head, while she keeps on looking at him.

«I don’t think that’s a good idea.»

And John agrees wholeheartedly: her, spending even _more time_ with him? Them working together without the rest of the team there to make sure they don’t raise their hands again? That’s _blasphemy_.

«And I respect that. We all will keep our eyes wide open searching for anything that might suit you, would we?»

They all nod and Lucius clears his throat, his voice trembling as he speaks:

«Pardon me, Sara, but… what if you just… created your own path? I mean, you do after all have financial resources. Many women nowadays seem to… try and do something. I don’t know. It’s just a suggestion.»

She gives him a little smile: her first one today.

«Thank you, Lucius. I will reflect on that.»

And John lets out a little, unheard sigh of relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Novel canon things you should know (may contain spoilers):  
> \- when John says that Laszlo "deliberately lied to him" he's both referring to Laszlo's arm AND to the fact that Laszlo put him in danger with Japeth Dury fully knowing they both might not survive, but telling John that they would be fine and have some backup. He was, indeed, a little shit.  
> \- in 1894 Julia Pratt left John for another man. John promptly got drunk and proposed to Sara. Her reply? She just drove him to the nearest lake and threw him in. That is the only "romantic" moment between them.  
> \- in 1897 Theodore Roosevelt started his political career, becoming the Assistant Secretary of the Navy. This is quite important in the second book because the team gets to bring the Navy to a literal battle with the Dusters.


	6. January 1897-March 1897

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Posting this now because tomorrow I have an important exam, next update will be (unless something unforeseen happens) on Saturday the 16th.  
> Feedback is always appreciated!

_January 1897_

She did follow Lucius’s advice and rented their own old headquarters at 808 Broadway, which makes him smile anytime he thinks about it. Yes, it feels wrong to him that she only accepts women as clients and collaborators, but she would likely shoot him if he voiced that opinion so he doesn’t.

Sara seems happier now, nonetheless: maybe this is all that matters.

Laszlo however is not, and this worries him, so he’s now trying to get him spend more time with his friends when he can. He even got the addresses of all the other academics in Laszlo’s field, just so he can combine something every now and then, having him meet people he can discuss with.

Laszlo, being the little shit he is, is not grateful.

«You don’t _need_ to drag me to _every_ social event in New York. I am fine. I am almost never alone anyway, I have my children and Stevie and Cyrus and you. All of you.»

«These are not your children, though.»

«Oh God, John! I love them and I am allowed to!»

John laughs at his exasperated yet amused face and tone. He’s hilarious, with his cheeks puffed and his eyes shining.

«Yes you are. I was just teasing you, you know.»

«I know and you have no idea how _annoying_ you are!» but Laszlo is smiling now behind the irritated facade, isn’t he? This is important.

«I will be fine. The grief needs to be felt in order to become bearable.»

He’s always trying to explain something to someone and it’s annoying just as much as John can be, but John doesn’t tell him. After all, this annoyance is part of his routine and he wouldn’t want it to change.

«Joseph told me that sometimes he sleeps in your bed.»

«He does. He said that it makes him feel safer, he wasn’t used to sleep alone.»

«That’s fine, I suppose. As long as you aren’t uncomfortable.»

John shakes his head.

«He just stays in a corner cocooned in blankets, if he feels better I feel better.»

He doesn’t add that he actually has realized that Joseph is making sure he stays home at night – the boy doesn’t approve his habits, apparently.

«We all can feel better, John. We just need to allow ourselves to be better, a little step at the time.»

«Is this part of a lecture or are you thinking _you_ need to console _me_?»

Laszlo gently chuckles.

«Both, I guess? I think you still might have some demons to face. But I won’t force you, we are friends. And you are a good friend. The best I can think of, actually.»

When that night he goes to bed, Joseph snuggles a little closer to him, and he can’t help but think of Laszlo alone in his own blankets and wondering whether this whole situation has some right sides to it or not, because seeing them is so difficult.

_January 1897 (some days later)_

Grandma has suddenly fallen severely sick and probably won’t see this spring come. Which means that the house is filled with his family, whose members look down at Joseph and at him, and he tries to get the boy to stay away as long as possible.

And Joseph doesn’t want to stay away. He wants to stay next to Grandma, and to him. He’s so brave, and John is so proud of him. So proud and worried, and scared.

_January 1897 (two weeks later)_

Grandma is gone.

He didn’t think it would hurt so much.

«We’ll have to leave this house» he whispers to himself as he watches Joseph and Stevie sit in the garden and Laszlo and Sara try to keep him company.

They are good friends and are not letting him down. But it hurts, it hurts so fucking much, first James, then her… his heart is shattered, it will never be whole again.

_March 1897_

They moved. The new house is smaller but at least the wallpaper doesn’t transpire grief and pain and memories that make him want to cry.

«Can I keep this picture of her? She was sweet to me.»

The little voice of Joseph is starting to deepen as he grows, but he still looks so childish, holding a tiny frame with a picture of lady Catherine Elizabeth Moore in it and looking at her.

«Of course, love. She was a great woman and I am glad that you had a chance to know her, even if for a short amount of time.»

The pet name has fallen so easily from his lips – and if Joseph is bothered by it it doesn’t show, he’s concentrated on Grandma. John was so focused on anything else (Mary’s death, Sara’s loss of a job, Grandma’s illness and death) that he has forgotten to notice how much Joseph has improved, and this is another little pain in the heart: he’s terrible at everything he tries to be, it seems.

«Why are you looking at me weird?»

Joseph’s voice forces him back in the house, in the living room, where they are disposing the last useless stuff: pictures, souvenirs, little house decor.

«I was just thinking that I’m thankful you’re here, that’s all.»

The boy shrugs.

«You’re the one who saved me. You know, she must have been pretty when she was young, you had the same eyes.»

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Novel canon things you should know (may contain spoilers):
> 
> \- the second book's plot starts in June 1897, and it's stated that John's Grandma died six months earlier, so in December or January. Nobody knows why, I suppose old age. She explicitly stated in her will that she wanted her house to be sold, so John has to move: it's also explicitly said that John's gambling addiction worsened because of grieving (in the books he's a gambler more than a sex addict) and that this lead to a suspension from his job.  
> \- well, Sara doesn't have any coworkers at her detective agency, she works alone: Bitsy and Milly were added by the TV show writers. I actually enjoyed this add so I kept it. Also Sara canonically accepts only women as clients and that's part of why I really love her.  
> \- in the books, the 808 Broadway office stays the same before and after Sara renting it: there are five desks (John, Sara, Laszlo, Lucius and Marcus) and a big chalkboard.


	7. May 1897-June 1897

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back! Yay!  
> This is the last chapter of the first part of this fic, the introduction one might say.  
> From now on, we will face Libby Hatch, so get prepared for a LOT of show divergence.
> 
> Thank you for your kind feedback and sticking with me!

_May 1897_

This summer is insufferably hot.

He can’t stand it. The worst part is sleeping, it becomes so difficult. And Joseph mostly sleeps on his own, he’s gotten this much better, so he’s alone.

Which means that his mind goes number and his thoughts get wilder, he should ask Laszlo if this is normal and how to solve it… but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to talk to him currently, because anytime he does his mind lingers a little too long on him and he doesn’t want that.

Of course, he’s glad that the pain Grandma’s loss brought is getting better. He still misses her but after all she has had a good life and death is just a natural end, may she be with God forever. But the way his mind gets twisted in this hellish heat… that’s _unnatural_.

Oh of course, it’s not wrong to notice how expressive and intense his eyes are. Not wrong at all. It’s not wrong to like the sound of his voice, is it? As much as the words he says are often irritating nonsense John can’t understand, the sound of him speaking is nice, that’s how he works, with that mixture of big words and soothing tone. Neither it is wrong to know that he smells nice, he’s always clean. Or the nervous way his hands move when he writes on the chalkboard, the perfect posture he always has, not when he moves, but when he’s standing, back straight and head high.

All of this isn’t wrong, it isn’t wrong. Many friends of his has complimented him on being handsome, Laszlo included, so this is normal. What is wrong is how he searches for that dark gaze in all the women he tries to bed, how he’s slowly losing his interest in blondes – this is not _right_ , this is not _normal_. What is unnatural is how he sometimes longs to hold Laszlo and it’s not in the way two normal men friends would hold each other, not in they way they sometimes _do_ – not _often_ , though, Laszlo doesn’t like to be touched or hugged if not by children. And now that John _knows_ what happened to him, this is no longer a strange quirk he can’t explain.

How can he sleep with such a heavy heart, and how can his heart become less heavy without sleep? He doesn’t know, so he stares at the sky outside his window.

_June 1897_

The heat becomes more and more insufferable. And he’s actually _glad_ they had him take a pause with his job. It means he doesn’t _have to_ walk and do stuff under this horrible sun and can give himself fully to his best life: gambling and drinking.

And bothering Laszlo. The man seems to have found some balance in his new life, and John is happy to see that he started thriving again, after the horrible things that happened to the both of them.

Currently Laszlo is back to his work – _his children_ , as he calls them. And John is back in his apartment, noticing that Joseph is gone. Off with some other boys in the neighborhood, John supposes and hopes, because Joseph deserves to have good friends his age that can help him with both schoolwork and appropriate social behavior. Or maybe he’s with Stevie, they seem to have bonded. Either way he can take care of himself, so John lets himself fall on the sofa and rests his head on the cushions, his mind running a bit around his usual thoughts. He thinks of Joseph being a little reckless _bad influence_ on all the other kids, on how his social circle seems to be shocked at him, not only in a bad way: some praise his courage and kind heart, and seem to appreciate Joseph’s efforts in blending in, while it’s not like the results are any good.

He thinks on his gambling habits, which have actually improved. He will admit – he spent a lot on the first months after Grandma’s death. But not as much as he thought he would, since he actually had Joseph to care for. One day, he thinks, he’ll thank the boy for saving him, too. He thinks of his job: a job that he loves and cares about, but that doesn’t seem to reciprocate his feelings.

 _Just like Laszlo_ , whispers the little voice in the back of his head, and there is no need for him to try and suffocate her. They are alone and he can agree, with a defeated, exasperated, exhausted sigh.

_Just like Laszlo_ .


	8. June 1897

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hi everyone!  
> There is something I should have said at the beginning of this journey and I forgot (stupid brain) so I'm saying it now: Laszlo, John and Sara are all rich and can afford to hire people to do housechores for them. So John has, canonically, a butler and a couple of maids, Sara has Tessie (because Sara is a strong independent woman who needs no maid... but Tessie) and Laszlo can hire people both for the Institute and his house (so he can have his shirts ironed even without Mary). We won't see these people because of two reasons:  
> 1) my lazy ass writing  
> 2) it's the 19th century and "servants" are basically seen as part of the furniture.  
> So it's basically me not bothering to characterize these people, but pretend it's on purpose because classism ok?

_June 1897 (some days later)_

Six months without big bothers. That was _all_ he asked for. And what happens instead?

One kid at Laszlo’s institute hanged himself. John discovered it when Laszlo called to advise him not to bring Joseph, because the police would be there and he couldn’t work today. When he arrives the cops are already there and the corpse has been taken away – and Laszlo is in such a clear state of distress that even him, not a Doctor, not a man of science, can recognize it even if he tries to hide it. He’s sitting in a chair in the waiting room staring at the void, pale, his lips so pressed they are invisible, his jaw clenched. John’s heart aches.

«Laszlo…» John gently whispers, putting a hand on his shoulder – the bad one. Laszlo would usually react in an unpleasant way to this touch, but he’s too shocked to: instead, he just raises his head and blankly looks at him.

«Hello John. Thank you for coming.»

He must be trying so hard to keep himself together, poised and calm as usual.

«I’ve called home. And Sara, after you. Do you think I should… advise anyone else?»

John desperately tries to think of anyone he should tell.

«The parents, maybe? If they want to collect their children while the police investigates…»

«They’ll do it. The police will tell them, and then…»

His voice is trembling a bit.

«What about them? _What about the children?_ »

_June 1897 (a couple of days later)_

They threatened to revoke his license… but haven’t yet. This means that he can keep on working for now, but he sent away all the children he could. He’s keeping only the ones who don’t have a safe family to go back to, and John is well aware of that.

«How are you?» he asks over the phone. The voice answering is weakened and full of grief and regret.

«I’ve been better. I don’t think you’ll see me often, I need… some time. This was a big blow for all of us.»

Neither of them is aware of how much Laszlo is wrong in this moment.

_June 1897 (almost two weeks later)_

He feels kinda wrong when he invites Lily home, mostly because Joseph sleeps in the other room and maybe that might be hurtful to him. But he guesses it’s better than going to brothels: Lily gets no advantage in fucking him beside… fucking him, so he guesses she likes that. He’s also trying to keep quiet when he does, so he also reckons it’s fine, anyway.

So, why has God opted for having him face the barrel of a derringer in the middle of the night, and an angry Sara on the other side of said derringer? What has he done this time?

And where the hell has Lily gone?

Stevie tries to tell him she just got out and left – tries because clearly seeing her kind of shocked him in a pleasant way and John completely understands him.

Apparently the witch (yes now Sara has become a goddamn _witch_ , for a lack of a more appropriate term) has a new case and she has to decide whether to talk to her girls about it. Because it’s big.

Just big enough to put them all in a life-threatening situation, this is clear as the morning sky even in his inebriated state.

And she’s clearly already _loving_ that.

In the end, they will wait to decide. If Laszlo decides to join them, his vote will be final in the very important matter of “ _let’s have the girls work on that or not_ ”. If he doesn’t, then the important decision will fall all upon her. Señora Linares told them to wait for “ _the man sitting at the fifth desk_ ”, but Laszlo is an unpredictable variable. At least, that’s what Sara is saying while pacing back and forth in the office, or what John is understanding.

«Why don’t you decide for yourself and then maybe consider Laszlo’s opinion? That’s what you _always_ do.»

Stevie and Cyrus both glare at him and he doesn’t know why.

«Because he’s already… _fragile_. If we can convince him to join forces with us… we’ll need to accommodate almost everything to his needs. Plus maybe this is too dangerous for Bitsy and Milly. Maybe. I have no idea. _God, this is so big_ …»

«Yes this is, and we’ll need to be cautious in our decisions. _Fuck_ , Sara, you’re making _me_ sound like the voice of reason, would you _stop_ pacing?»

Sara exhales a little chuckle without stopping swirling in the room.

«You’re right, you’re so right. That’s why we _need_ to wait for our _true_ voice of reason.»

She hasn’t slept, she’s overwhelmed and overexcited, he understand that. But fuck, fuck, _what the fuck is happening with her_?

_June 1897 (a few days later)_

Laszlo is there. And even though he’s wounded, he’s sad, he looks like a lost puppy, the fact that he’s here alone makes John feel like they already won the war and without shooting a single bullet.

They all are together. They will find and stop this child kidnapper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Novel canon things you should know (may contain spoilers):  
> \- The second novel is narrated by Stevie and he has a very important storyline and role in solving the case. I will have to explain it later.  
> \- When the second book starts Laszlo is in a state of high distress, both because he's still grieving for Mary and because one of the children he has at the Institute (Paulie, we see him also in the show) hanged himself. In the book it's an intentional suicide (not an accidental attempt) and it destroys Laszlo even before the case starts, plus that means that the police investigates interfering with his work. That's why Sara doesn't want to involve him at the very beginning, when little Ana gets kidnapped and Mrs. Linares goes to her.  
> \- Sara is very excited for the case because it's a serious one and most of her clients are rich ladies wanting to discover if their husbands cheat. She is, like, very happy to have something big to do.  
> \- John never gets engaged in the books since he has serious committment issues; he has some fuckbuddies, women (mostly actresses) who sleep with him just for the fun of it. One of them is Lily.  
> \- The night Sara accepts the case, she goes to Laszlo's, wakes Stevie and has him join her, then they go to John's and they find him drunk and in bed with Lily. Lily goes to the bathroom, Sara gets in the bedroom and points her gun at a very drunk, very sleepy, very confused John who tries to pull her into the bed (thinking she's Lily).   
> \- As aforementioned, in Sara's office there are five desks. When the team first meets Mrs. Linares there is four of them (Sara, John and the Isaacsons). Mrs. Linares is the one who suggests that the team should be complete and that they should wait for "the man sitting at the fifth desk", Laszlo.


	9. June 1897-July 1897

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very tired of exams, why can't I just sleep?

_July 1897_

_They’ve met her_. And he’s trying to play it cool, to make it seem like he’s having fun chasing this woman, this Elspeth Hunter.

 _He’s definitely not having fun_.

He’s just trying not to scare the kids.

And to look manly.

The way she looked at Laszlo turned his blood into ice. The way she clearly was hiding something, or better someone, a Spanish baby, and God knows what kind of history.

«Do you think we’ll catch her?»

Joseph seems unimpressed. He’s skipping a bit on the street, kicking little things like a normal kid his age does. John walks slowly beside him.

«I hope so, love. Cannot be sure ‘till we do. But we got Beecham didn’t we, and we were fewer, we have a bigger team now.»

Joseph nods and smiles.

«May I help?»

«I don’t know. May you?» John takes his beret off his head and ruffles his unruly curls, getting a laugh in response.

«I want to help. I can finally be useful I guess, be like you.»

He says it so naturally, like John is some kind of savior that has done so many beautiful things. And for a moment John hopes he can live up to that expectation.

«You already are. And you can help me write to my friend this evening, will you?»

Joseph’s writing has improved and he keeps a journal currently, so he enthusiastically nods.

«Of course!»

_July 1897 (some days later)_

So apparently all effort was in vain. Stevie and his friend and _the goddamn ferret_ could do nothing but almost get killed and John’s actually losing hope.

«Damned Dusters all around, we could have gotten…»

The fat girl – _Bitsy_ , how can he keep forgetting she has a _name_? Useless brain – is holding the damn animal in her arms like it’s a child, while the actual child (Stevie) is lounging on the waiting room’s sofa with his head resting on the other child’s (Joseph) lap. They all are a bit shocked, but it’s Stevie who risked – quite a lot.

«What are we gonna do now?»

John stares at Joseph and the boy stares back.

«This failed. The Dusters know Steviepipe here. She knows somebody broke in. Which means we don’t get a second chance. What are we gonna do _now_?»

«Well… we try to discover something about her. About her past. My friend will help if the woman has any connection with Saratoga.»

He insist on trying to look confident and _not-scared-at-all_ , but it’s getting harder.

«What if he can’t?»

This is _Milly’s_ voice. The other little Sara’s minion. She isn’t as annoying as Bitsy, but he doesn’t like her nonetheless.

«Then we’ll elaborate a strategy, we don’t have to decide tonight.»

Laszlo always sounds so calm, even if he’s – so clearly – not. His shoulders are stiffened, his jaw clenched under the thick beard which still can’t hide his expressions: Laszlo likes to think he’s unreadable but to John, usually, he’s not. He must be shocked and afraid to put them all at risk, the whole team: his friends, his _family_. Maybe his job? John tries not to think about that side of this story, but he has to.

«We actually gathered new piece of information from tonight. We know the basics about her house, about her habits… it’s better than before.»

John lights a cigarette up and opens the window, his gaze wandering on the crowded streets below them: people are getting back home, while their team is hiding in a den that might just become a trap. And Sara is fallen silent, and the Isaacson went home – not before Lucius screamed at them all, for a little while _almost_ appearing as intimidating, because his brother was in danger. This was an incredibly terrible night, one he wishes he can soon forget with the help of some good booze.

«What if…» Joseph is thinking, apparently, and for a moment John can swear to be hearing his little brain moving in his head «what if we didn’t send Stevie to bargain with the Dusters’ girl or to do the street-smart kinda stuff for us anymore?»

«She is no Dusters’ girl…»

«Whatever, shut up Stevie, my time to shine. I’m a street boy too. And they don’t know _me_.»

John stares at him in utter disbelief while rage mounts inside him. He has to take his deepest breath ever, _ever_ , not to start screaming at the boy right here and now.

«Have you lost your mind?»

He shrugs – _the fucking boy shrugs at him_! The disrespect! The madness!

«What? If he can go I can go, it’s simple… how do you call it, Doctor? _Logic_?»

«You won’t go near the Dusters. Laszlo now you _do_ tell him he _won’t_ go.»

But Laszlo doesn’t. He cocks his head instead, furrowing his brow while he gives Joseph his deadly gaze: the one that makes the worst criminal tremble and shit himself.

«Do you think you could do this, Joseph?»

Joseph shrugs again. John thinks he’s about to kill someone in the room.

«She can’t be worse than my _former clients_. If I die, I’m dead. If I don’t, I can help.»

_July 1897 (some days later)_

Rupert is not answering his letter. Which means that days pass by without something actually helpful to look forward to, which means that his mind has started wandering in its usual wild places, other than worrying for Joseph. He goes back and forth to these two different poles of thinking and now it’s time for the one he’s ashamed of.

He wonders where this started to go wrong. When did he start caring in such an… unhealthy way? He isn’t… _like that_. The way Connor had said so much time ago, the way Joseph’s former clients are (although they are a peculiar kind of filthy and disgusting, far worse than a _normal_ fairy, because he’s aware it’s not such a _rare_ phenomenon). He isn’t one. He’s always liked _women_ , so much. He likes Lily. He liked Flora. He _loved_ Julia, every fucking Saint be _damned_.

But it’s _Laszlo_ he can’t imagine himself without.

And it’s always been this way. They are complementary and inseparable, and he always thought that he could be content the way it was, even if with wives and mistresses. Why is he so longing now, for something he can’t have and would be wrong even if he could? Something he can’t even actually imagine, he can’t see himself and Laszlo engaging in anything even remotely sexual. Not even… kissing? He just can’t – yet he intimately knows that’s what he wants, and the thought fills him with dread.

There is only one good side – he doesn't think that Joseph will look at him with disappointment ever again. Because he knows he won't be whoring anymore.  
No prostitute in New York, woman, man or whatever in the middle, has eyes as dark as the ones he craves for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Novel canon things you should know (may contain spoilers):
> 
> \- Elspeth Fraser/Hatch/Hunter (Libby) in the book is a TERRIFYING character. The trio finds out that she is the child kidnapper at the very beginning of the book, but also find out that stopping her will be a very serious quest. She's much older than the show version, can't lactate, has a bedridden husband and an affair with Goo Goo Knox, who protects her... but with the whole gang, and the Hudson Dusters were a real pain in the ass (pardon my French when talking about history).  
> \- They try to break into her house making Steve get in with a trained ferret he borrowed from a friend of his, but the attempt fail and Stevie and Marcus risk a lot.  
> \- Stevie also has an important affair with a girl his age who is a child prostitute and is with the Dusters because they got her addicted to cocaine.  
> \- Libby uses a lot of aliases and has basically erased her past moving from Ballston Spa to New York City, but the trio finds out where she comes from and that's where Rupert is introduced.  
> \- Rupert Picton is a close friend of John's, a lawyer who lives and works in Ballston Spa and has been after Libby Hatch for YEARS because he always suspected she had killed her first husband (Mr. Hatch) and two out of the three children they had. The eldest one, Clara, managed to survive but became mute and crippled (a lame arm). Uuuuh, look what we have here: a child whose parent's violence lead to a lame arm... Does it sound familiar to you?  
> \- John writes a letter to Rupert Picton as soon as he finds out that they'll have to investigate in Ballston Spa. Keep in mind: they are close friends.


	10. July 1897

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> We reached the midpoint! Still nine chapters to go!

_July 1897 (some days later)_

Rupert has finally sent an answer, which brought to the most humiliating moment in his life, but he guesses he’s happy anyway, because they are going to pack and go to Ballston Spa as soon as possible, which means tomorrow or the day after. How much must John worry about bringing not one, _two_ troubled kids to such a place? He realizes, as he smokes a cigarette at the window before heading to bed, that he doesn’t want Joseph to develop his very same fondness for gambling. And he doesn’t know how to avoid it.

«Fuck, I’ll have to behave.» he says to nobody. Then he hears the soft, familiar steps incoming.

«Shouldn’t you be sleepin’?»

«Yeah. But I can’t. ‘m too excited for ‘morrow.»

He turns around and faces the boy. _His boy_ , with his soft curls and those deep eyes that already saw too much.

«You’ll end up napping for the whole train ride and Stevie will get bored. Go to bed, will you?»

«Why will you have to behave?»

 _Shit, he heard_.

«Uh, I was just thinking that ‘till the _Times_ gets me back to work I’d better behave, shouldn’t I? So we can keep on eatin’ well and maybe go to Delmonico’s once or twice.»

Joseph seems to be thinking about this for a bit, then nods.

«Fine. I was thinking…»

Oh no, _what the hell was he thinking_?

«When the cig is over, would you read for me? A bedtime story? Mrs. Moore would always read for me… before. I miss that.»

Of course, nobody ever read _anything_ to Joseph, so he wants it now even if he’s big for bedtime tales. John quenches the cigarette in the ashtray and follows him into his room.

«So, what do you want me to read?»

Joseph takes a big book and hands it to him. When John sees the cover he pales and goggles.

«The _Iliad_? For real?»

«She was reading it to me!» he sounds so defensive and John is immediately ashamed.

«I’m sorry, Joseph. I just don’t think that a gruesome war tale is ideal before sleeping, that’s all.»

«It’s a nice story. I like that Achilles guy, he’s fierce. Like miss Howard… she’s also blonde like him.» Joseph yawns.

«So you like Sara’s fierceness?»

A little nod comes in response as he sits down to read.

«Yes. _Thank you_.»

John reads until Joseph drifts off, and before he leaves he gives a little kiss on his forehead. He usually doesn’t touch Joseph much – not to scare him.

«Thank _you_ , love.»

_July 1897 (two days later)_

So they are: two fine gentlemen, a lady who behaves like the third gentleman, two Jews, two kids, one Black man. And they luckily left the other _two_ ladies in New York city, to investigate.

What can _ever_ go wrong, he wonders.

Well, for now – nothing. They arrived; Rupert cheered him and introduced himself to the whole company; they went to his house; they bathed, ate, decided for a plan on what to do from now on; and now they are going to their beds.

«Can I…» Joseph seems hesitant in asking.

«What?»

«Can I go sleep with Stevie? He said we could if you said I could.»

«Of course, just don’t do pranks while we try to sleep.»

Joseph is still somewhat hesitant, so John tries to understand.

«There is something on your mind, uh?»

He nods and sits with him.

«He’s sweet on that girl. Kat, I think her name is Kat? The one with the Dusters.»

«Stevie? He is?»

Another nod.

«I don’t… think I can ever be sweet on anyone. And don’t understand him.»

John cocks his head and looks at him in the most understanding way he can: Joseph’s experience was horrible, he’s not surprised the boy doesn’t want to ever think about sex – or _romance_ , or whatever – again. He can’t say he understands, but he can imagine.

«What do I do with him?»

«Oh, well… Laszlo often speaks of things I don’t understand and I do speak of women, which is something _he_ doesn’t understand. We listen to each other, sometimes it’s enough. If he annoys you too much, you can always say you want to sleep.»

«I thought the Doctor liked women, he had one, didn’t he? She’s dead, he misses her.»

John doesn’t actually like to think about Mary – or about the times he _knows_ Laszlo has drunk himself to sleep, _alone_ , after her death. But he can’t admit that in front of Joseph.

«Yes, one. She was… very sweet. You would have liked her.»

«So even the Doctor has been sweet on someone. I’m the only one who… can’t.»

«Maybe it’s just too soon. Maybe you haven’t met your someone yet. Maybe you can be happy all the same, just like Sara,» who has _never_ been sweet on _anyone_ , has she?

Joseph looks at him and something about that look tells him that there is something wrong with what he just said – but how can he know whether it was insinuating it’s too soon or any assumption about Sara? So they just look at each other for a while.

«Maybe you should go. Stevie must be waiting for you.»

«’M going. Good night!»

«Good night.»

John looks at the door for a way too long moment after he’s gone, and in this unfamiliar, cold bed, he rediscovers once again how hard can sleeping be if one has a lot on his mind.

_July 1897 (the morning after)_

«You look like shit.»

«Thank you, Rupert. Tryin’ to adapt to my dear friend.»

For once Sara scoffs at his joke, while Laszlo looks at him with the furrowed brow of disappointment.

«You didn’t sleep.»

«Yeah, thank you for showing you’re the cleverest one here Laszlo.»

Sara straight up laughs at this one. And Laszlo glares at her but John is too exhausted to care.

«If you need to rest you’re allowed to…» he tries to say, his voice low and soft, but John interrupts him abruptly.

«I don’t _need_ to be coddled and babied, Laszlo. Especially not _by you_. I’m a bit tired, I’ll be better tomorrow, I can still work. We need to save a fucking _baby_!»

Everyone falls silent and even the Isaacson stare at him with a perplexed look. Didn’t he know better, he’d swear that for a second Laszlo looks _hurt_ , before getting as composed and elegant as usual.

«As you prefer, my friend. Do you want some more coffee?»

Yes, he wants some more coffee. So he nods.

«There was no need to treat him like that, I don’t know what has gotten into you.»

She’s trying to control her anger but she’s not really good at doing so. Neither of them wants to make a scene while walking together, though, so he tries to speak quietly and look casual too.

«He treats me like a child!»

«Maybe if you didn’t behave like one he wouldn’t.»

Ouch. That hit close to home. So he stays silent, and she softens a bit, or better gets into her inquisitive mood.

«Has he done something I should know about?»

«No, he hasn’t. I’m just tired and lashed out at him because he was there.»

Technically he’s not lying. She stops and looks at him, her face a little gentler.

«The both of you are facing a great deal, and I’m not just talking about… _her_. You need each other, more than ever. Please don’t make it harder than it needs to be.»

«And since when, exactly, are you such an expert on male friendship?»

«I’m not. You’re right. I just…»

She turns her head, looks at their friends walking down the road, summer sun making everything look brighter and better. Stevie and Joseph seem to be playing catch, Cyrus and Rupert talk quietly.

« _I just don’t want this to end_.»

So before going to bed he stops at Laszlo’s room. Knocking at a door shouldn’t feel so difficult.

«Come in!»

He enters and luckily Laszlo is still dressed, just without the jacket. And there is something in seeing him in just his shirt and waistcoat that sends a completely unwelcome shiver on John’s lower back.

«Oh. Hello John.» he even smiles at him, like nothing happened, and John seriously wonders _how can he be so low?_

«I’m sorry.» he says before losing his courage «for… this morning.»

Laszlo frowns a bit and then smiles again. _Jesus Christ when did his smile become so good to look at?_

«It’s fine, really. We all are restless and worried, I understand that I probably sounded more patronizing than I intended to. It’s just… that I care about you, even if I’m not that good at expressing it.»

«You are good. I just lashed out, I’m sorry.»

Laszlo nods, still smiling. Yeah of course, to him it’s fine, they are just friends who had a misunderstanding. _To him this is nothing_. And they are standing still, looking at each other, for far too long not to be awkward, so Laszlo breaks the silence again.

«So… we’re fine?»

«I guess we’re fine, yeah.»

«And… you are going to bed, aren’t you? In your own room. So tomorrow we are well-rested and ready to work?»

Of course, _in his own room_ , he can’t sleep with Laszlo. Not even just properly sleeping near him.

«Yes, I’m… going.»

He takes a step towards the door before a sudden rush of courage runs through him and he dares to say something so foolish that it might just work:

«Do you need help with your… clothes?»

Laszlo startles and stares at him with an utterly shocked face, before a loud laugh, the loudest he heard in what feels like geological eras, escapes his lips.

«No, thank you. I can do it myself, but thank you for being such a _caring_ friend.»

Oh well, at least he thought John was just joking around. Better than being horrified at the mere thought, John tells himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Novel canon things you should know (may contain spoilers):
> 
> \- when Rupert answers John's letter it leads to a quite hilarious moment with the trio, Cyrus and Stevie. I won't say what happens because Caleb Carr has to pay me for sponsorizing his books so much (just kidding).  
> \- The whole team stays at Rupert's house for about a month (I think, it's not specified). Imagine them all under the same roof. Just imagine.  
> \- The J-word is canonically used in the novel. The N-one is used too, even if it's made adamantly clear that Cyrus finds it offensive and the others don't want to use that term. Historical accuracy is an incredibly ugly thing sometimes.  
> \- Libby Hatch lived in Ballston Spa for a long time and made herself hated by anyone in the whole county: still, people will not talk about her for fear of ripercussions.  
> \- Stevie at this point is an embarassing lovesick creature, it's not his fault Kat is everything he thinks about.


	11. July 1897

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm back with another little chapter!

_July 1897 (a few days later)_

He learnt some things: first of all, that this Libby Hatch woman is an incredibly evil demon, probably regurgitated from the deepest pit of hell. Then, that restraining himself from sneaking into the casinos of Ballston Spa is harder than he thought. Third, that Joseph and Stevie quarrel – _a lot_. And lastly, that Laszlo really _is_ a little shit who likes to stay under-dressed. No, the fact that it’s July and they all are feeling the terrible heat does _not_ excuse his _indecency_.

And the fact that Sara and Lucius are staring at him weird is no deterrent for his thoughts on the matter.

«So… let me understand if I got this wrong. We are searching for a woman who killed her _children_ and has connections with the worst gang in New York but your biggest problem is that he’s not wearing a jacket. _In July_.»

«He’s indecent!»

«I’m wearing the same attire. And so are you.»

«I’m way more _fashionable_.»

«I’m not wearing a jacket either.»

«You’re a lady, it’s not the same…»

She scoffs.

« _Spare me_. You’re just teasing him because you’re still behaving like a child. No wonder Joseph and Stevie like you so much.»

«Yeah, speaking of them… where have they gone?»

«I don’t know.» says Sara, furrowing her brow and looking around.

«I don’t _want to_ know.» Lucius frowns.

Turns out – Marcus took Joseph and Laszlo took Stevie and they went searching for people to interview. Unsuccessfully, it seems, but at least the boys stopped squabbling for a while.

«What the hell is going on with you two? I thought you were friends!»

John is quite sure that Laszlo is asking Stevie the same question in another room, just in a different fashion.

«I might… have teased him. About that Kat girl. And he didn’t like it.»

Joseph shrugs as he looks at the floor, a little pout on his face.

«That girl is gonna bring him into trouble. She already did!»

«She’s also helping us, you know.»

Joseph nods.

«I know. I’m thankful, really thankful to her, and I don’t hate her. Just… she’s more like me.»

«Would you mind to elaborate a little?»

He presses his lips together and squints his eyes. He won’t say the fucking word and John does not force him.

«That’s fine. If he’s sweet on her, he won’t… like to accept that he can’t have what he fantasizes about. Just apologize to him, mh? Try to avoid the subject ‘till this is all over and she’s off to San Francisco.»

«She won’t be. You’ve known that world, you know she won’t leave. Not while she’s on burny, at least. It is a… _how did he call it_ … vicious circle?»

«You spoke with Laszlo about vicious circles?»

Another little nod.

«I like it when he explains difficult things. It’s like he has words for everything, as much as you can draw everything and make it seem real. And when you have words, or a drawing, the thing becomes less scary and confusing, doesn’t it?»

Does he _have_ words for what is running through his mind? He doesn’t know.

«We’ll catch her. Nobody… nobody _likes_ her.»

So Joseph is actually worrying about the case too, not just about making Stevie cry.

«Do you think so?»

«Yes, just… I don’t get why you didn’t leave me with the ladies, I could’ve helped ‘em, I think.»

«Yeah, but you’re safer here and we’ll bring her here, so we need as many _strong men_ as possible!»

Joseph chuckles, and John smiles at him.

_July 1897 (some days later)_

The bad news: Sara apparently has some difficulties in finding anything about Libby Hatch’s past – this is a fancy way to say she hasn’t discovered shit. People just won’t talk to her or the kids about the matter.

The good news: the little boys made peace (Joseph gave Stevie half of his bacon at breakfast and that settles it apparently) which means Sara can take them both on her quests for more information about their woman. The two seem to think they’re her bodyguards and everyone else thinks that’s adorable.

The consequence he didn’t consider is that he gets to spend _a lot of time_ with just the Isaacson, Rupert, Cyrus and Laszlo. And it’s fun to actually help Lucius with his scientific stuff (even if he doesn’t understand anything of what he says, at least he uses his hands and Lucius seems content with having someone who listens to his ramblings), the not-so-funny thing is constantly having Laszlo around and keeping on… _being Laszlo_.

Currently he’s drawing with Libby Hatch’s daughter – the child is just so strangely _pretty_ , so similar to her mother yet so different. John is looking at papers and old documents, sending occasional glances at their weird duo.

«Did you know? My friend, here, John… he draws, too. He was a professional artist.»

«Still am when they pay me.»

The words came out of his mouth in a grumble without thinking, but she hears anyway and raises her head – it’s so strange to not feel threatened and unsettled at the sight of her eyes. She looks inquisitive and then she stands up – and brings her drawing _to him_.

John stiffens a little: he’s not used to children like her. Joseph is older, and male, and talks ( _a lot_ ), so even if he’s troublesome he’s a bit easier to handle. But she just wants to show him the picture – which turns out to be a nice studio of the Morgan stallion they’re using to move around. John breathes and tries to sound as encouraging as he can.

«You really do have a good hand, Clara. You’ve drawn him by heart and it really looks like him!»

Clara gives him a smile – God, _she really looks like Libby_ but gentler – and Laszlo beams as well.

«You could work a bit about the shadows, here… and here. But this is a really good work!» at least for an eight-years-old girl with an impaired arm. She giggles a little and walks back to Laszlo, who is smiling as well, warmth spreading through his eyes and posture. John realizes that with children he lets himself be less composed, more at ease: it’s a rare sight, and John tries not to indulge in staring too much – promptly failing.

«See? You _do_ have talent!»

How can anyone think that he’s unfit for his job – that he’s not the best man who could _ever_ do what he does – is completely beyond him.

_July 1897 (the morning after)_

He was better off when he couldn’t imagine what intimacy with Laszlo would have been like. Way better off. And now he’s lying on his bed in Rupert’s house staring at the ceiling and feeling helpless and shameful, unable to get up.

According to, well… Laszlo himself, dreams are nothing important. Just silly fantasies in which anything can happen and that leave nothing behind. But he knows that what he dreamt has unlocked something that can’t be locked up again, and even if he tried to deny, well, the piteous state the sheets are in would be proof enough that this is true.

_Would his beard really feel that rough against John’s skin? Would he really be so warm?_

His stomach churns a little; part of it is certainly hunger, but most of it is a bit of horror. This is wrong, he thinks.

 _This is what you want, though_ , the little voice in the back of his head replies. John pouts. He refuses to listen, this time, so he sighs, stands up and goes to wash himself and dress for breakfast.

The fact that the pillow lacks any lingering trace of Laszlo’s scent is disappointing, though. He’d like to know what _that_ would be like.

As he enters the dining room he’s welcomed by happy chatter and the boys pestering Marcus and Lucius over some boyish curiosity. His gaze is, anyway, irremediably attracted by Laszlo – who looks like shit, he’s the one who hasn’t slept tonight it would seem. Ruffled hair, dark circles under his eyes, generally miserable look – yes, even he can recognize those symptoms.

Then he notices Sara – next to him. She looks bad too, sad and tired.

«Now what is happening with you two?»

Laszlo looks at him and gives him a tired, fake smile.

«Good morning. It’s nothing, I just… got mail from New York. About my own trial, you know. It starts in September.»

«Well maybe if you just listened…»

He interrupts her. Which is strange, it’s usually the other way around.

«Well maybe if _you_ did.»

There is definitely something wrong here, also because she shuts up for once. He sits in front of them, trying to catch something in their faces – but just finds empty tiredness.

«What? What is the matter?»

Laszlo smiles again. Still faking, but with a hint of actual amusement.

«Nothing. We just had a heated discussion about what to say in court, and you know how much our Sara can be… _tenacious_ , isn’t she?»

She fakes a smile as well, _refusing_ to look at Laszlo. Her eyes stay fixated on John.

«Yes, yes. That’s it, you know the way him and I quarrel.»

John still thinks there is something more, but he’s not sure he wants to know, and provoking any of them further would only end up in a bullet in someone’s flesh. So he smiles and nod.

«Coffee? We have a lot of things to do!»

Before lunch, Rupert takes him aside and glances at Laszlo and Sara relaxing on the sofa, listening to Cyrus playing. They’re sitting on opposite sides, quite careful not to look at each other, and even if the mail story is true John is quite sure they’re hiding something.

«Do you think they solved their lovers’ quarrel?»

«Pardon?»

«Yes, you know, this morning they both looked like they fought. I hope this case doesn’t ruin them, when are they supposed to marry?»

John is actually bewildered. Is it some kind of sick joke? Has he guessed something?

«What the _hell_ are you talking about, Rupert?»

He doesn’t look like he’s joking. At all.

«Ooh, I understand! They are one of those modern couples who just… don’t marry but live together? I don’t like that but who am I to judge if such a renown intellectual does…»

«They aren’t a couple by _any_ means, Rupert. It isn’t… like that. She despises men.»

«Well she doesn’t seem to despise _him_ , that’s all.»

Oh, _fuck_.

If Rupert is right, then the apocalypse is near.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Novel canon things you should know (may contain spoilers):
> 
> \- Clara Hatch has been taken in by a rural family in Ballston Spa. She's a very shy girl who loves drawing, so Laszlo gets to know her by offering drawing supplies. Because book!Laszlo actually DOES HIS FUCKING JOB INSTEAD OF NUTTING IN HIS PANTS AT THE MERE SIGHT OF THE KAREN (I will never forgive the showrunners for this. They didn't even TRY to respect his character and The Karen was straight up AWFUL).  
> \- The Isaacsons actually have a lot of cool knowledge in the books. It's amazing.  
> \- Lucius is baby. This is very important.


	12. July 1897

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there!  
> I'm actually excited to post this! We'll speak again later when you read the chapter ;)

_July 1897 (some days later)_

_The child spoke_ , and this means the trial begins. This means they are going to face _her_. And to John this feels like a battle in which they are not actually sure they’ll survive.

There’s good news, too: Rupert has decided it’s time to celebrate and so they are going to the casino. All together, lady and kids included. And Joseph does look good in fine clothing, doesn’t he? John beams with pride as he looks at his… well, yes, he can say his _son_ , adopted but loved all the same, all polished and with an almost-perfect posture.

«Well look if this isn’t a refined young gentleman, isn’t he?»

«I _hate_ this suit.»

Stevie’s voice echoes from the hall.

«So do I!»

This wasn’t what John expected, but he doesn’t frown, he chuckles as he ties his bow-tie and smooths his jacket one last time, looking in a full-figure mirror. _Still the handsome one_ , he thinks.

«You’ll learn how to cope with it. Both of you. Now, let’s go.»

He heads for the stairs and promptly stops, causing Joseph to bump into him.

Who, _who in the name of God almighty_ , gave Laszlo the right to dress well? And Sara, why is Sara wearing a pretty dress, blue as her eyes, with her shoulders a little uncovered in a quite indecent way if someone were to ask him? Why is she so convinced to go with them, since she loses no occasion to make sarcastic remarks on how his gambling habits are vicious and terrible?

«What happens _now_?»

John is forced to stop looking at them.

«Nothing. We’re going, come on.»

But his voice must sound a little less jolly and a little less gentle than he wants to, because both the boy and his friends frown.

«Something’s wrong? Maybe some sudden thought?» Laszlo gently asks.

Yes, the thought of _not going_ because as much as John likes roulette and poker and strong liquor he can’t stand the sight. But he can’t say that. Can he?

«No, nothing is wrong, really. Shall we go now?»

And off they go, but John can still _feel_ that gaze on him. _You can’t read my mind now, thank you very much_ , he thinks.

At least he didn’t have to resist for long, because Laszlo got bored and left, probably to stroll with the boys and Sara. So yes, they are playing the happy family outside and that makes John want to pout, but who wants to be sad when they have dices in front of them?

So, he doesn’t think. He just plays along, lets himself get lost in the merry-go-round of the roulette, in the pretty colors and lights and the thrill of the winning.

Because he’s winning, Rupert on the other side of the table is grinning and this is all that matters. Even if his new friends, the ones he doesn’t remember the names of, don’t smile, as they lose. Sometimes Stevie makes an appearance, looking over his shoulder, suggesting some strategic moves – when they’re home he’s going to bring the boy gambling some nights, since he likes it too.

«Who wants to do a final round of cards?» he calls, for the fourth time, drinking his fifth-last whiskey shot.

Life is _so beautiful_.

He stumbles a bit as he exits the building and notices how much dark the night is. Staring at the black sky ( _his eyes are a summer night’s sky_ , the little voice tries to say, but he won’t give in) he wonders where _the fuck_ have all of their _friends_ gone, leaving only Rupert and him.

«I think the Jew boys have gone home. Or strolling around, maybe.» Rupert is slurring a little and it’s funny, and John laughs. He tries to force himself to think until a memory (or a thought he interprets as a memory) comes.

«Lucius came earlier. Didn’t he?»

Rupert nods solemnly and then has to lean himself against a streetlight.

«He came and said they were going home. Uh, how have I gotten myself to be friends with such _frumps_ , Rupert?»

«We’re getting old. And ugly. At least you, that’s why.» Rupert is still leaning against the pole, the lamp making his red hair shine a bit.

«And where _the fuck_ have the kids gone? Where is Cyrus?»

«Have no idea ‘bout them but maybe Mr. Montrose, yes, brought the kids home too? Haven’t seen young Mr. Taggert in a while.»

«Well let’s search for them, shall we? Two street kids, one giant black man, one terrible-tempered lady and one frump. Can’t go unnoticed.»

«Yeah! That’s a good idea!»

If John wasn’t so drunk he’d probably realize that this _can’t_ be a good idea, even with all of these people around them, but he’s drunk… and what can go wrong anyway, after this lovely evening?

It takes him several minutes – bells tolled twice, so it's two in the morning – of going through little streets around the gambling house before he hears the _oh-so-familiar-low-and-soft_ voice.

And then Sara’s.

Their voices come from a nearby little park. And they are quarreling. What a great surprise, who would have thought. John tries to get nearer being silent, as much as he can see and hear them. She seems frustrated, pacing quickly around him in her pretty dress, and he stands still, stiffened, his shoulders tense.

«You are incredible. I don’t get you, I really don’t.»

«Sara, there’s nothing that you should get. It just… doesn’t feel right.»

« _What_ doesn’t? _You_ told me I made you feel better.»

«That doesn’t mean that we could… be together.»

John is seriously hoping he’s hallucinating the whole thing. The way she looks at him, like he just insulted her whole lineage and the only thing she can do is whip out the derringer and kill him on the spot. The way he looks at her, indecipherable but oh so incredibly _intense_. This just can’t be _real_.

«You are toying with me.»

«I’m _not_. I _care_ about you.»

«Just not enough, right?» she stops, looks around, then at the ground. And then lifts up her head again, meeting his eyes – and her gaze is so full of _hurt_ , and John realizes that he’s always been _right_ , and that he _knows_ how this whole story is going to end if they make it out alive.

«Maybe just not in the right way. Maybe I can _never_ feel the right way again, Sara.»

She’s going to cry – John is just too drunk and shocked to join her but he probably would if he weren’t – and Laszlo sighs, sad, hurt as well.

«How… how was I even supposed to _know_? Even I _can’t_ read minds!»

Her eyes fill with anger once again, and her voice gets as sharp as a butcher’s knife.

«I _let you live_ after you slapped me. I _forgave_ you. _That_ should have been telling enough.»

John doesn’t want to, but he moves – and cracks a branch on the ground. That makes the unhappy lovers flinch and turn around.

« _John_?»

Oh, _fuck_.

The ride home has been awfully silent. But at least the kids are now sleeping and Sara has stormed into her own room and Rupert and Cyrus have retired as well, leaving only them. And John is starting to feel the dizziness of alcohol going away, so he tries to force himself to be present.

«What you heard tonight…» Laszlo starts, his gaze wandering anywhere but near him, shame all over his face. He doesn’t know what to say and this is clear «I didn’t know. I didn’t mean… this wasn’t supposed to happen.»

«Do you want her?»

It’s easy as that. But he receives just a shake of his head in response.

«I want no-one. I’m not _meant_ to…» there’s pain in his voice and John has no idea how to deal with that, so he just _stares_. Probably in an uncomfortable way for Laszlo – oh well, maybe now he has an idea of what it feels like to be stared at _by him_. But it seems to make him feel like it’s not worth it to try and explain, for his confused and hurt expression becomes simply defeated and tired.

«Forget it, John. We will speak of it in a better moment. Goodnight.»

Laszlo lets out a defeated sigh and leaves, and John can finally cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, surprise!  
> Yes, I deliberately left out a relationship tag to surprise you all! What to you think about this twist of events? How do you think this will end?
> 
> Novel canon things you should know (may contain spoilers):  
> \- Clara Hatch is the key witness of her mother's crime. When Laszlo manages to make her speak, she tells him that it was Libby to shoot her (Libby had told they were attacked by a Black mugger) and her little brothers.  
> \- The trial will see Rupert Picton (our dear Rupert) as the prosecutor and Clarence Darrow (if you don't know who he was Google him: he was an interesting figure) as the defense attorney.  
> \- I can already tell you: the trial is both the most boring and the most interesting part of the book. It's such a dense part of it I couldn't possibly rewrite it all.  
> \- Stevie is a bit of a gambler, his relationship with John has its weight in the book. Here there is also Joseph so he's kinda put aside since I imagined the two boys would have gotten along easily.


	13. August 1897

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> I have another exam on the first of February, so... I'll try to update on the 30th of January, but we might see each other again on the 2nd of February.  
> Anyway I hope you have a pleasant week.

_August 1897_

Libby Hatch arrives on a morning train and is greeted by the whole county. Of course she’s already playing the victim – black dress, teary eyes, sad, sad expression. But they all can see right through her, and hopefully the jury will too.

Her lawyer is not here, though. When is Clarence Darrow going to make his appearance? Without him, they can’t start.

John looks around. All of those people have curiosity and shock painted all over their faces and he knows he’ll make a drawing out of this scene at home. Marcus is looking around searching for Darrow – or, just as likely, for any sign that something is going wrong. Lucius is not even there: where is he? When he manages to catch Marcus’s attention he tries to ask moving only his lips, but Marcus just shrugs. He doesn’t seem worried though, so John tries to relax as well.

Laszlo and Sara are standing as far from each other as they can and she keeps on refusing to look at him, even if he sometimes tries to glance at her. John scoffs, for he looks like an adolescent boy who mortified his first girl and now searches for a remedy. _Lucky that he wants no-one, uh?_ , whispers the little voice. John shuts her up: they have better things to worry about now.

Some hours later, he seriously thinks that things will go for the better. Rupert is doing great and Darrow’s line seems to be just putting them all down – and he can’t. They are too solid in their evidence.

So he can worry about Sara, who hasn’t eaten much since _that evening_ and looks sad when she thinks nobody is seeing her. She’s sitting on the porch of Rupert’s house, smoking, and John sits near her.

«We went well today.»

«We did.» she agrees, nodding.

«Can we talk?»

«’bout the fight between me and _him_?»

Nobody fucks with her, that must be admitted, that’s why they would never be a couple, even without that damned alienist around.

«Yes. About that.»

«There’s nothing to say» she shrugs and scoffs.

«What happened?»

She presses her lips together, bites the lower one, then sighs.

«I told him… you already knew that. That I’m in love with him. I thought things might change now, but they can’t, and I got angry. That was childish of me and I should apologize. This is the whole thing.»

«You said he toyed with you.»

«I thought he might have feelings as well. We spent so much time together, I thought that might mean something. It didn’t.»

Her voice is monotone, emotionless. He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to do something, like pat her on the back or touch her arm. The fact is: he’s not just trying to comfort her. He’s trying to understand how much scared he must be, how much she can hope to get his… well, _affection_.

«Do you… really think he can _never_ love again?»

«What do I know? He’s the alienist. Why are you asking _me_? ‘m just a stupid woman.»

She sighs again.

«I think he misses you. You aren’t talking to him and you avoid him if you can. Is it my fault?»

John is not ready for this conversation. But he can at least reassure her.

«No, not at all. It’s just a difficult situation, for all of us. It will get better when Libby Hatch is dead and we’re home, don’t you think?»

She nods, without looking at him.

«Are we fine, John? You and me, at least.»

«Of course, I’m always down for your insults and mockery.»

That, at least, draws a little chuckle out of her.

«You’re not that bad when there’s no lady around.»

_August 1897 (some days later)_

This is _not_ going well.

Darrow is, indeed, very capable. Which means: it’s not so sure they can win, even with the child’s witness. And as Sara is desperately searching for more evidence, bringing the boys along as much as she can, Laszlo seems to be utterly disheartened.

That awful man has clearly found a weak spot in Laszlo and he’s been silent ever since they’ve come home and John has never seen him smoke so much in a single evening – he isn’t a hard smoker, at all. But he’s so clearly distressed and frustrated, moving around in his most nervous way, not talking, not even _explaining anything to anyone_. So John wins his own bashfulness and tries to approach him while he’s nervously keeping on reading documents they all are sure he knows by heart.

«Are you alright?»

Laszlo stops and looks at him funny, like he’s unsure whether he can answer truthfully or not, then he forces a smile (the goddamn cheekbones still giving away he’s not actually in the mood):

«Yes, yes, alright. Thank you for asking.»

«So… the reason you’ve smoked about ten cigarettes in an hour and half is…»

«…I’m just worried about both this trial and mine, John. Nothing you should concern about since you can’t help me.»

John understands that he’s been a horrible friend lately, that probably Laszlo is under the impression he’s the problem, he’s done something to fuck everything up. He didn’t. John is the problem.

«You can still talk to me, I know I haven’t been good lately, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t care.»

He nods, a strand of his dark hair falling on his brow. John barely resists the urge to put it where it should be, behind.

«I’m aware.»

«You’re not doing it.»

«I don’t want to _burden you_ with my thoughts, John, we’ve already spoken about this.»

«Do you think I’m so stupid you can’t speak to me?»

Laszlo sighs.

«I think you wouldn’t actually want to listen. I’m a cripple but not _blind_ , John, I see that my presence is currently making you uncomfortable. As long as I don’t know what I did that made you dislike me so much, I won’t keep pestering you if not necessary.»

John is appalled and shocked at what he says, but even more at his tone, which sounds like the human embodiment of the quiet before a storm: nothing is currently happening, but one can see the clouds getting darker, one can feel the electricity in their bones. So now he’s controlled and calm at the surface, but John knows him better than that, can hear the hints of anger and hurt in him like an out-of-tune piano chord. Laszlo might be disappointed with him but has _no right_ to be angry at him, not when he draws entirely incorrect conclusions and decides that John has somehow _wronged_ him by not putting himself in his way, so he accordingly reacts:

«Why do you _always_ do this?»

«What, what am I doing?»

«Anytime something happens, you… you just _decide_ I’m not trustworthy and lock yourself in your ivory tower. You did it with Frances, you did it when Mary died, you did it with Paulie, you’re doing it now!»

« _You’re_ the one avoiding _me_!» Laszlo’s voice rises, not quite a shout, but strong enough to shut him up. As much as he’s quick to anger, he hardly ever screams – and a screaming Laszlo, a Laszlo who completely lost his temper, is _terrifying_. Even for John, who is taller and likes to think he’s stronger: there’s just some sense of _wrongness_ in seeing Laszlo raging that makes him not much braver than a wailing baby.

«You think,» he continues, his eyes flashing, black and furious and _deadly_ – John’s heart pounds hard in his chest – as he walks to him and he backs up a few steps «that you can keep the facade and keep on playing the good friend and the good father and the good _whatever the hell_ you want to be even when you’re not behaving as such? That’s _not_ how it works. I’m _terrified_ that we’ll lose this case, that that woman will walk free, and if she does we _all_ know nobody here will ever know any peace again, and if anything happens to any of you _I_ will be at fault, _again_ , and you think you can just come to me and offer me a shoulder to cry on after all of this brooding around and avoiding any in-depth discussion of anything?»

John feels a hard wall against his back.

«I tried to talk to you. And you just stood there watching me like some kind of judge…»

 _Because I love you and I can’t stand it, it’s not your fault, none of this is_ , John for a second thinks he uttered it out loud but he didn’t, luckily.

«…and now the last thing I need is you trying to tell me it’s my fault I don’t speak about _feelings_ , while in all honesty you can quite _go to hell_ with that one. We don’t need feelings, we need _facts_.»

John thought that Laszlo would have jumped at his throat, but now he seems to have said anything he needed to say. The storm has raged, the quiet after comes: but there is no rainbow in the air, for those dark eyes are still filled with anger and he keeps on looking at him like he’s trying to see right into the deepest pits of his soul (he can’t and John has never been more thankful that he can’t, but the impression stands) and he’s still stiff, looking taller, more intimidating; John doesn’t dare to move yet. He’s right – and guilt and shame come biting his viscera, his _goddamn_ heart that doesn’t stop beating so hard. If either of them was a woman this would be the right time for a kiss – aren’t women’s novels full of these moments in which lovers make peace after a quarrel? But none of them is a woman, and what he’s thinking to do is wrong, _so wrong_ , and it would cost him everything. Laszlo takes a few steps away from him, lowers his gaze, goes back to the documents, starts folding them tidily.

«’m just trying to help.» he finally manages to stutter. Laszlo scoffs.

«I’ll let you know when I need you. For now, _please_ , leave me alone.»

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Novel canon things you should know (may contain spoilers):
> 
> \- Libby Hatch has a husband in New York. Before going to Ballston Spa for the trial she kills him off and leaves the Dusters to tend to her house, which means that Stevie's girlfriend is trying to investigate/take baby Ana away from her on the team's behalf.  
> \- Laszlo is currently under investigations for Paulie's suicide, so he's a bit stressed out, poor love.


	14. August 1897

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there!  
> Posting this now because I will spend the weekend studying for the big big exam.  
> I will fail.  
> It doesn't matter. I can try again this summer.  
> Honestly I want to sleep for a month, ditch uni and go be a farmer somewhere.
> 
> See you on Tuesday!

_August 1897 (some days later)_

Evidence was found, and it has the appearance of her natural family.

Sara has saved the whole trial single-handedly and John guesses he should be grateful to her, but he isn’t. Mostly because that required the Isaacsons to use their resources to locate Libby’s relatives and that meant that _he_ was forced to be the phone guy in these long, excruciating days, which implies _he_ was the one who had to bear the unbearable: Bitsy speaking about how much that Kat girl is _adorable_ and so _helpful_ with the Dusters – that she is hopeful they’ll take down the whole gang. Who is he to break her hopes, after all.

But also because that means she’s the one who will be remembered as the savior of baby Ana Linares – and Laszlo has _beamed_ at her when she came along with the great news.

Of course Laszlo and him are on good terms now: they’ve both apologized. But the fact is: he never beams at John. Anyway, the important thing is that they found where she hid the little baby she bore before becoming Libby Hatch: there is no way in hell she might escape now.

They have a luxurious dinner that evening, and they laugh and share stupid jokes. Marcus smiles and Lucius has hopeful eyes (it took John way too long to understand that him and Bitsy have _something_ going on – well, if it makes him happy then so be it, but John honestly thinks he deserves better), Rupert is… oh well, incapable of shutting up as per usual, the boys are happily sharing food (Joseph puts his fries in Stevie’s plate and Stevie reciprocates with the little fish meatballs they’re eating), Cyrus keeps an eye on them… and then there’s Laszlo and Sara, sitting next to each other as if nothing happened.

As soon as she is distracted John whispers to Laszlo:

«Have you spoken with her? About…»

Laszlo looks at him and nods. He’s unreadable, but it doesn’t feel like he’s upset.

«We’re fine for now. We’ll decide what to do when this is all over.»

The fact that the decision hasn’t already been made is unsettling, but John doesn’t want to ruin the evening.

They face her in trial the day after. And the face she makes when they put her in front of the facts – when she realizes that all of her lies have been recognized as such, that she can’t hide herself anymore – is priceless.

_August 1897 (that night)_

They arrived just in time. Just in time.

And now Rupert is lying on a bare table in the prison and Laszlo is trying to save his life with his – quite insufficient – tools. John can do nothing to help, but try and talk to the people who ran there, try to avoid too much crowding around them.

There’s so much people and there was so much blood and Laszlo might not be able to save Rupert and Libby is _fucking free_ , and where the hell are Sara and the Isaacsons… oh, there Lucius is, with… the surgeon, he supposes.

«Where is the wounded man?»

Yes, a fucking surgeon, at least.

John keeps on trying to talk people out of there: there is no need for them to be there. And they won’t leave, fuck, they are not leaving and he really needs to get inside, to go near Rupert in case he…

« _Go the fuck home!_ » he hears a voice scream and it takes him some time to realize it’s his own. They leave. They do leave. And he can go inside.

Laszlo has blood smeared _everywhere_ : his sleeves are dripping and it’s even on his face. He’s trembling. John can’t help but go near him.

«How’s Rupert?»

«I don’t know. I did what I could and I hope… I hope that’s enough.»

«What do we do now?»

«We wait. We can do nothing but wait. We can’t even move the corpse.»

Oh, of course. The fucking cretin of a prison guard who fucking _let her escape_. Serves him well, John isn’t even sorry.

«Where are the others?»

Laszlo’s voice is faint.

«Off calling for help, I think. Cops and… maybe a hospital or something.»

He nods. He’s scared as much as John is and he’s fucking _covered in blood_ and as much as they’re used to gruesome affairs that’s not something any of them is used to.

«We should go home and get clean, shouldn’t we?»

«No. We should wait until it’s clear whether he will…»

It takes them hours to notice.

« _Where are Joseph and Stevie?_ »

John doesn’t think he’s _ever_ been this terrified.

The kids have disappeared, that demonic woman is on the loose, the two events are clearly related and Rupert is still in danger, even with the doctor claiming he’ll survive. The man is bringing their friend to the nearest hospital and Laszlo and him are going back home.

«Where do you think they might be?»

«Heading to New York, quite sure. Following her. Stevie probably thinks he can defeat her alone…»

Laszlo has to change clothes before they go after the boys – he’s still covered in blood, even if it’s almost dried, dark on his white shirt and skin. And it’ll take its time.

«Maybe Sara and I might go and you wait here with Rupert…»

«No, I’m coming with you. Stevie is my responsibility as much as Joseph is yours, I’m just as scared as you are.»

«Oh. Well you don’t seem so for sure.»

Laszlo glares at him, but says nothing. They need to get moving, of course. It’s not the right moment to argue.

The train ride is incredibly silent. Nobody of them (him, Laszlo and Sara, they left Cyrus and the Isaacson in Ballston Spa so they’ll tend to Rupert) dares to speak. Sara lights up cigarette after cigarette and Laszlo’s head rests against the window as he looks outside. New York seems so, so far away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Novel canon things you should know (may contain spoilers):
> 
> No list this time, I'm gonna write a whole summary paragraph.  
> Libby Hatch, as we previously said, had a husband and three children she got rid of before getting to NYC. What Sara found out is, well, is that when she was still unmarried and lived with her parents and brothers she had gotten pregnant.  
> Had the baby, killed it, buried it with her dead dog so it would never have been found in her parents' field.  
> When Laszlo tells her they found the baby corpse and that it proves that she's a child murderer (and generally speaking an incredibly evil criminal) she goes apeshit: that night she kills the prison guard after seducing him, stabs Rupert who was there I don't remember for what reason, and then goes back to NYC, to her lover (Goo Goo).  
> Stevie and another character (who isn't in this fic because else it would have been more complicated and it's already difficult enough) decide they will face her and kill her on their own (fine Stevie, you're thirteen, it's ok to be reckless) so they steal the horse the team was using and get back to NYC. The team will have to wait for the first train to get back to them.


	15. August 1897

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back!  
> Did you miss me and this chaotic story?

_August 1897 (the morning after)_

Joseph was hiding at number 808 Broadway. With Bitsy and Milly covering him up. John was unsure whether he should scold all three of them or not, but Sara seemed quite determined to scream at the girls when they’d leave so he was probably not needed. Joseph is going to face his wrath, nonetheless, as soon as they’re home. He’s never hit the boy (he never raises his hands at nobody first, there is no need), but he wants to, now. He just raises his voice enough to be menacing, though.

«Do you _understand_ how _dangerous_ what you did was?»

«We’re _fine_.»

«You could get yourselves _killed_!»

«We _didn’t_!»

«And when the _fuck_ did you learn how to ride a horse?»

«I don’t know, we took a carriage! Stevie drove! And you always tell me not to curse!»

«You can’t, I’m the adult, so now you will _stop_ talking back!»

He’s shouted and Joseph shuts immediately up, a scared look on his face.

«You won’t do something like this again, because next time we have a case I’ll fucking send you to my parents if needed. And you will be officially grounded as soon as this is over.»

«We _found_ her! And that Kat girl! She’s at the Doctor’s!»

«Is she fucking _dead_ yet?»

Joseph lowers his head.

«No.»

«Then what you did was useless and stupidly dangerous. Go to your room, and do not dare to sneak out. _Now_!»

He doesn’t protest further and goes. John has to go at Laszlo’s he guesses.

The house is a mess and apparently Stevie accommodated his little lover in Laszlo’s bedroom because she was unwell.

 _Unwell_ being a euphemism for _poisoned by Libby_. So the girl is anesthetized upstairs, Stevie is keeping an eye on her and Laszlo just looks exhausted as they sit in the living room.

«Where’s Joseph?»

«Home, in his room. Grounded.»

«You know he can… sneak out, right?»

«He won’t. I have a butler, remember?»

Who of course didn’t show himself while he was scolding Joseph, but John is trusting will keep an eye on the boy.

«What about Sara?»

«She’s at her agency I think, maybe she’ll come here later. Any news?»

«Cyrus called right before you arrived. Picton is still alive, anesthetized and unconscious but alive.»

«Thank God. And you of course.»

Laszlo chuckles tiredly.

«How are the kids?»

«She’s having a rough time, he’s fine. I don’t know what to do with her if she survives.»

«Sending her off to San Francisco is such a bad idea?»

«I don’t know. I don’t trust my colleagues there.»

Laszlo scratches his beard and pours himself a glass of scotch and then looks at him questioningly. John shakes his head.

«No need for liquor, I’m just relieved they’re fine. Do you think she’ll need an alienist?»

«She’s a child prostitute and a cocaine fiend at thirteen, John.» his tone is soft and full of compassion «She’ll need a miracle and even I have no idea how to make it happen. Mostly because she doesn’t _want_ to change her ways.»

«If she survives, maybe she will. This will serve her as a good lesson.»

«I hope so. But I think that the first thing we have to do now is _still_ stop both the Dusters and Libby and retrieve Ana Linares from her.»

John sighs: of course, this is just a moment of peace before an actual war.

«How are we going to do it?»

«I have no clue. Let’s wait for Sara to join us, I’ll call her agency.»

John lets him do that, because he doesn’t want to take the risk to have Bitsy answer the phone.

So now there is a change in the plan and _Theodore_ (the whole fucking _Navy_ ) is going to be involved. John is not quite sure this is the best idea, but what else can they do?

They reunited at number 808 Broadway, after a little debriefing in which they decided that it was best to leave Kat at the almost empty Institute, where a nurse would be taking care of her, and to bring the boys back. After all, they want to be involved so much and already are.

«So this has now gotten serious.»

«Wasn’t it before?»

«Shut up Milly. Does this mean that we get to fight?»

«I don’t think so, but we’re going to need you too. And all of our force.»

«Cyrus and the Isaacsons have taken the train, they’re coming here. Rupert is well taken care of, so they’re more needed here than in Ballston Spa.»

«Is it going to be dangerous?»

Bitsy was enthusiastic about the danger until the Isaacsons were mentioned, and now she looks so pale and afraid? John is too tired to try and be polite so words leave his mouth before he thinks.

«What? Do you think this was a happy stroll in the park?»

Sara glances at him but says nothing, Laszlo scoffs, amused it seems. Well at least someone is having fun.

«Maybe they’ll be more needed here? In Broadway?»

«They’re cops, they’ll be fine doing cops work. What has gotten into you, woman?»

She blushes and the other two look at him as if they’re trying hard not to laugh. No answer comes and then he remembers: of course she reciprocates what Lucius feels, but it's currently a non-priority. So they shift the attention to the fucking case.

«Are you sure he’ll accept the offer?»

«John, come on. You’re his friend, you know him well! This is the biggest brawl he’ll ever find himself in, do you think he’d refuse?»

Sara has a point he can’t argue with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Novel canon things you should know (may contain spoilers):
> 
> Since the team cannot involve the police/army for this case (because there was a lot of political tension and it eventually led to a war between USA and Spain) they decide to ask Teddy for help, so the whole USA Navy is going to have a battle with the Dusters in order to save a single baby. But I really like to think that Teddy just saw the occasion to beat up some evil guy and took it.
> 
> Oh and Kat was supposed to escape New York and go to San Francisco, where she has some relatives: Laszlo had already paid for her train ticket. But Libby is smarter and she found out the child was a spy for the team, so... it didn't went well.


	16. August 1897

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're heading towards the end! Yayyyyyy!
> 
> Two days ago one woman in a store asked me if I was to have the final exams in high school. I'm almost 25 and lived on my own for four years. I'm quite sad.

_August 1897 (a couple of days later)_

All of his life, John has never thought he’d find himself in a battle between the Navy and the most vicious New York gang. One thing is sure: the _Times_ will have to take him back because these incidents don’t happen everyday and they’re lucky he’s here to document it.

Anyway, he can’t hide he’s afraid of those Dusters. When one big guy charges him, he thinks of Joseph and hopes for the best.

When the battle is won, he’s actually surprised he’s out of it with just bruises. Now he has to search for Joseph. Where is the child?

John wants to _scream_. Why does he still trust all of those _idiots_ around him?

She could have killed them all: Sara, Laszlo and Stevie. Joseph luckily stayed _outside_ , but he’s gonna get scolded again all the same because this is _horrifying_.

 _She hit Sara from behind, first. Sara fell and lost her senses. Then Laszlo tried to face her and she hit him on the head too._ He was hurt. His head is bleeding. And he’s not letting him come near.

Because he’s a little shit and an idiot and John wonders how could such an idiot even reach adulthood.

 _Stevie managed to keep her talking, for a little while. Just enough to have Sara regain consciousness and shoot her. As usual, it’s Sara who saves the day._ And Laszlo is still bleeding, is anyone tending to him and making sure he doesn’t try to kill himself again?

 _They found baby Ana. She’s colicky and crying but Lucius took care of her._ Lucius knows how to change a diaper and feed a baby. The ladies seem to be delighted with him and this is incomprehensible to John, but fine, he guesses. He’s more concerned with Laszlo’s injuries, no matter how much the _idiot_ claims he doesn’t need a physician to get a look at his head.

«I’ll be fine. I just need to go home now, I can take care of myself.»

«To _hell_ , we’re going to the hospital now.»

«John, in case you haven’t noticed, every doctor in this goddamn city, _me_ excluded, has enough work to do with the Navy and the Dusters.»

He has a point.

«Then let us help you?»

«Stevie and Cyrus are here.»

«For God’s sake, Laszlo!»

«John!»

Of course – his head is hurting and screaming at him worsens things. This means the matter will be settled later, for now – John sighs. At least the demon woman has been sent back to hell, where she belongs.

_August 1897 (some days later)_

The case is over, the child has been given back to her parents, war is still a possibility but it isn’t there yet, Laszlo’s head is fine. So John goes back to Ballston Spa with Joseph, to bring good news to Rupert and to see how he’s doing.

«Do not _dare_ to consider this a reward. You’re still being punished.»

«A proper punishment would be making me bear that _shrew_.»

« _Joseph!_ »

«What?»

Yes, Kat is still with them – and she’s at her worst. John didn’t think that cocaine abstinence would be so horrible that Laszlo would have to lock her up in a single room without letting her interact with his other kids. John understands that Joseph has a point: she’s _a little bit_ of a shrew. But this doesn’t mean that the boy is allowed to talk about her in such a rude manner.

«She’s a burny fiend! I’m being gentle!»

«You can think what you want, but not say it out loud.»

«You quite said it out loud when we were talking about the Doctor’s first fiancee.»

Ouch, this is a low blow.

«Frances was way worse than Kat, kid.»

«What did she ever do that could be worse than trying to claw the nurse’s eyes out?»

John has no answer to that, at least not involving indecent displays of affection in public, so he ponders for a bit.

«Well, all you want, you won’t talk about Kat in this way ever again.»

Joseph pouts and looks out of the window, green fields and trees running fast around them. John tries to relax. Things are going well. He’ll be back at his job as soon as possible. Everything is fine.

«Well that _feculent whore_ dies and I am not there to celebrate?»

«Rupert! Language, _please_! I have a kid!»

«I’ve heard worse.»

«Shut up Joseph.»

«I heard you two, you and young Mr. Taggert, were very important in defeating that demon. Is _demon_ an allowed word, John?»

John nods and smiles, while Joseph beams.

«It was Miss Howard who killed her.»

«I had no doubt, that’s an incredible woman! How are all of our friends?»

«They’re fine. Sara and Laszlo got a blow in the head each but they’ll be fine. Cyrus has some bruises. Lucius is wounded in his pride since we found him nursing the Spanish little lady.»

«Ooh, this is interesting gossip! Does his lady in New York city knows?»

Rupert is stitched up and his movement is slowed down, he’s a little lame and doesn’t talk and laugh as loud as he usually does: it probably costs him pain. That aside, he seems quite well, for a man who got stabbed three times a week and half ago. His maid follows them around the house, saying nothing but ready to cater to them.

«Lucius is not married, my friend.»

Not that he doesn’t understand what he’s referring to – he’s just joking.

«That is clear, no married man is _ever_ that sweet on his wife: but he _was_ sweet at the phone with the woman who you kept in touch with in the city!»

«Bitsy?»

«Yes! That’s the name!»

John laughs.

«You should see her. She’s… quite a type.»

«Well you owe me a trip in the city, my friend – I need to go visit Libby’s grave and spit on it.»

«Whenever you want!»

«Then I’ll see her. After spitting on Libby.»

John laughs again. This is the end of the summer, and things are going so well.

_Then why are his dreams so frightening and so full of golden eyes preying on him and black ones not coming to the rescue?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "How could such an idiot even reach adulthood?"  
> -me, about any of my former significant others.
> 
> Novel canon things you should know (may contain spoilers):
> 
> \- Lucius knows how to care for a baby because he has a sister who has children (Marcus is unfit for any care role, it's not his fault, we love him all the same). The rest of the MANLY MEN in the team mocks him for this since it's UNMANLY to know how to CHANGE A DIAPER and HOLD A BABY. It's still 1800, so...


	17. September 1897-December 1897

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two chapters to go, I'm almost sad :(  
> Thank you for coming with me in this journey, feedback is always appreciated!

_September 1897_

«How is Kat?»

«Quite the same she was a month ago. Still aggressive, crying, stinking as she’s dead. Even Stevie can’t stand her for long. It will take a long time to have her recover, I’m afraid.»

It’s been a long time since they last dined together alone, at Laszlo’s. No Sara, no Isaacsons, just the two of them like the old times. And John probably should not be this happy, not at his age, to have this privilege.

«Do you think that Stevie will leave her?»

«Who knows? He’s trying his best, this I can tell. Sara said that she might take the girl in when she gets better, I don’t know if this means she will take care of her personally or just leave her other girls to it.»

«Her _minions_ , you mean. And she might!»

Laszlo laughs, a hearty, soft laugh – John smiles in return and keeps talking.

«Or maybe she could leave the girl to Mrs. Cady Stanton, so she will change her mind about whatever _inherent female goodness_ she believes in.»

This makes Laszlo laugh harder. His eyes squint behind the glasses and John swears, he wants to see him like this everyday.

«Sara actually said she admitted that Libby Hatch was a notable exception to the rule. And Kat is not that evil, she only tried to stab me _once_.»

They’re laughing together – how much has he missed that? But now it’s time to ask – with the straightest possible face – the dreaded question:

«What about you two? You and Sara?»

Laszlo stops laughing, his gaze lowers into his empty plate. He licks his lips, presses them, scrunches his nose, pondering the answer.

«I don’t know. We’re acting normally, but I would understand if she didn’t want to see me for a while.»

«You’re sure you don’t want her? She’s splendid, in her peculiar way.»

«I’m fully aware, I’ve always been. It’s just… not the right time. Not the right thing to do.»

«Picton thought that you two were engaged.»

Laszlo emits a strange throaty sound and then puffs his cheeks. What is going on in his mind?

«Picton saw her go out of my room in the middle of the night, wearing only a nightgown and with her hair loose. He drew a plausible conclusion from the data he had.»

John gasps.

 _You’re toying with me_ , Sara’s voice echoes in his mind. Now he realizes what she meant.

«Don’t look at me that scandalized, you’re not exactly the most righteous man in that matter. _And_ I _didn’t_ sleep with her. We were just talking.»

This is reassuring but John knows he can’t just sigh in relief without being awkward, so he tries to joke his way out of the embarrassment.

«Now you’re trying to tell me you didn’t lay a finger on a beautiful woman offering herself?»

«I didn’t.»

His dark, liquid gaze hasn’t risen to meet John’s yet.

«And you don’t actually want to talk about this.»

«Well it always ends up being an intellectual debate to you, so I thought you were going to give me a lecture.» he’s clutching at straws and quite sure Laszlo will now look at him and understand everything, but he doesn’t. He just shakes his head a little.

«It’s not like that. I understand that you’re just… how to put it… _uninterested_ in the details. It’s fine, I guess.»

There is some sort of bitterness in his tone, but not anger. Only then, he lifts his head and look at John, his eyebrows moving in a little amused expression.

«However, if you want dessert I brought an apricot cake.»

John’s favorite. His heart wrenches a little and he nods. How can Laszlo look that indifferent after this conversation is beyond him, but he knows that an apricot cake offering means _we’re done talking about this serious matter_.

When he gets home he’s feeling sick. Not because of anything that Laszlo said or did, but because he thinks he understood the bitterness his friend showed before.

John has _always_ rejected the idea of him being with a woman. He didn’t like Frances, and he had good reason, but it meant that they never actually talked about her, for years. Mary? He _did_ like her, and it lasted so little that he didn’t have the material time to disapprove – but he was awful at helping Laszlo share his grief. He was _relieved_ that Laszlo is not the kind of man who ever shows what he feels, that he was never asked to stay there and see him crying. And now Sara – _Sara_ , he realizes, probably _did_ stay there. She was _braver_ than him, a better friend than him. He’s ashamed. And if to him now the reasons behind his behavior are clear… how can Laszlo guess? As much as he’s clever and great at reading people, it’s not a kind of motives he’s familiar with, so whatever explanation he came up with must be quite worse.

«You’re home early.»

He didn’t expect Joseph to be still up, but he is, lounging on the sofa. So not technically up, but awake for sure.

«And you’re up late.»

«It’s only midnight. And I was reading» he also shows the book, an illustrated copy of _Oliver Twist_ «this guy writer here has some weird ideas about life in the streets. How’s been your evening?»

«Pleasant, thank you. Are we going to bed now?»

«You look sad, what happened?»

John smiles at the boy: at least he’d always be able to count on him.

«Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about things I should apologize for.»

Joseph stares at him, soft brown eyes and unruly curls: he’s getting taller and stronger, but his face remains sweet and innocent.

«You know, you’re not trying to hurt anyone. I don’t think you should apologize for not being always perfect.»

«Ooh, now you’re playing the wise man?»

«I’m just saying. You’re doing your best, there are things in our lives that just happen, that we do not choose. You’re doing what you can!»

John has no clue if he’s referring to his job, to Lily, to his general attitude in life or _to Laszlo_ – somehow he thinks the boy got something he shouldn’t, but there is no proof, just a gut feeling.

«Well I honestly thank you, love. Is there something else that I should know, since you’re in the mood for saying good wise things?»

«No. Just wanted you to know, before we go to bed, so you won’t fall asleep sad.»

He doesn’t fall asleep sad, but his dreams come to torment him anyway.

 _He’s covered in blood – again – but this time he’s wearing his little grin, a promise of more mischievous things coming. When John digs his hands into Laszlo’s hair the smile widens until John shuts him up in a kiss. It tastes like blood and smoke and liquor and_ – when John wakes up with a start – _guilt_.

_October 1897_

The thing between Lucius and Bitsy has evolved into an actual relationship, so while the whole group is taking a stroll in the park these two are holding arms and whispering to each other and giggling.

«Insufferable.» John says, pouting.

«They are.» Sara agrees, snorting. He’s glad he’s walking side by side with her.

«Personally I think they make a rather radiant couple.»

«Nobody asked you, Milly.»

John scoffs: he shouldn’t find it so funny, but Sara bullying her minions is always hilarious. Autumn leaves crunch under their feet and the air is pleasantly chilly, but the sun shines above them. And John (he’s sure Sara shares also _this_ thought) is trying hard not to look at Laszlo, happily pacing with Marcus while they compare Yiddish and German words. He sometimes laughs, shaking his head, and they seem to perfectly understand each other while to everyone else it sounds like nonsense gibberish. And God, _God_ , nobody can blame John for feeling the way he feels towards him. John can’t feel ashamed when Laszlo is an autumnal sun ray, apparently so cold but radiant, when his laugh comes as a soft rain to soothe a dry soil and in his eyes shines the whole night sky. What can John do, if not gravitate towards him? What can Sara do? What can everyone, when as much as he was born in summer he is, in fact, the October sun?

John has even thought of taking a male lover (it shouldn’t be _hard_ , should it?) to divert his mind and settle the matter once and for all, but the mere thought makes him nauseous. And women are not helping. But (he shakes his head to dismiss these grim thoughts of loneliness and helplessness) this is a lovely afternoon and he’s not going to ruin it.

«Are you alright, John?»

«Uh?»

He hadn’t realized that Sara was still there and that she’s looking at him with furrowed eyebrows.

«You… shook your head. And looked sad. Are you alright?»

«Oh… yes, thank you. I just thought that my Grandma would have loved this afternoon and made a lot of remarks on us.» this isn’t a lie, at all. She doesn’t seem to believe him, but doesn’t inquiry him further. She takes his arm, gently.

«She would. And she would agree with us that Lucius and Bitsy are insufferable.» she chuckles and John smiles along.

«Next time you might invite Lily, if you please. We’d like to meet her, you know?»

John chuckles, feeling lucky to have one of her rare moments of sweetness.

«Lily and I are nothing serious, I hope you’re aware of that…»

«Ooh, a photographer! Mr. Moore, Miss Howard! Let’s take a picture all together!»

And there the conversation goes, because Bitsy has decided she wants a picture of the whole party together and nobody wants to object.

But when he’ll look at the photograph, himself standing behind Sara and near Laszlo, Lucius and Marcus smiling and Bitsy holding Lucius’s arm with Milly all serious between the two trios, he’ll always feel a nostalgic warmth in his chest, so it was probably a good idea even if coming from Bitsy.

_December 1897_

Sara is busy with the last Christmas décor and lights, running around her country house with her maid… and Kat. The girl is far from being fine and recovered, but at least she’s able to get out of the Institute sometimes and Stevie is delighted to have her at their Christmas party. Joseph, on the other hand, is a bit disappointed.

One boy has been following his beloved all around the house, helping her reach the highest points on the walls to show how much of a manly man he’s becoming; the other has been grumbling and glaring at her anytime he’s been asked to help, so the adults eventually gave up and he’s now sitting in an armchair with his arms crossed and the biggest pout recorded in history on his face. John reaches for him and sits near him.

«Do you want to be a grumpy old man all evening? That’s _my_ role, kid, you could have asked before!»

Joseph doesn’t laugh but John can see that he’s actually putting effort in keeping the pout.

«Come on, she’s better now, isn’t she? And you can stay with us old people if you’re feeling too much of a third wheel.»

«I still don’t like her. It’s not that… it’s not that I’m _jealous_ or something, it’s that she reminds me of _before_ and she’s so _smug_ about it I can’t help. She’s better now, you’re right, but I don’t think I’ll ever like her.»

«You think we should tell her? Maybe she doesn’t think it’s a big deal.»

Joseph looks at him like he said an incredible truth about the universe, his eyes widening:

«Tell her?»

«Yes, tell her, talk to her. I don’t think she wants to be your enemy.»

«Oh… yes. Yes. Talk to her, or to Stevie.»

«Or both, this is a good idea. Now will you help me with the table, please?»

Joseph smiles and gets up, and as they prepare the table he starts humming Christmas carols.

The room is filled with laughter, warmth and the smell of delicious soup and turkey.

«I’m quite sad Lucius and Marcus didn’t come. They don’t celebrate Christmas, but it would have been nice to have them here.»

«Yes, neither our good Doctor here is a devout Christian, so what stopped them?»

«I was raised Catholic, what are you even talking about?»

«Oh stop it, you only came because of the turkey.»

Laszlo gasps when John says that, and then laughs.

«Guilty as charged, but in my defense – I also came for _company_.»

«’m sorry, Lucius and Marcus are the two cops? The handsome one and the nervous one?»

Kat incredibly managed to get a side-eyed look from _both_ Bitsy and Stevie, but Joseph finds it funny and laughs.

«Yes, it’s them. Marcus is the handsome one and Lucius is the nervous one, but he’s also quite cool!»

John nods, agreeing – Lucius _is_ quite cool.

«Well maybe we can host something for them too. A recurrence for both Christians and Jews?»

«I don’t think that New Year’s Eve is a religious occurrence so maybe that would be nice.»

«Yes, Lucius and I were already planning on going out for dinner, I must admit.»

Kat looks at the woman with a little surprised face, while Laszlo looks at Sara and as soon as she reciprocates offers her a little hint of a smile, one that probably hides something deeper. Why do these two keep on _excluding_ him from things?

«Well you can go out and have your nice evening and we might invite Marcus for another dinner, do they have other relatives?»

«Uh, another sister who is married and their old mother, right? But are we organizing here? And, Rupert, you are not allowed to invite anyone since you’re a guest!»

Yes, Rupert has come to the city and is staying at John’s – and John is actually happy to have an excuse to miss any family meeting in this holiday season.

«Well, this house is usually empty, so there is no problem.»

This is Sara, her voice gentle, her gaze often lingering on Kat – she probably wonders whether taking her in is a good idea or not. The girl has been remarkably good in her manners and even her and Joseph managed not to quarrel, so John can’t really say anything about her; she’s still looking at Bitsy, in evident curiosity, and she eventually finds the courage to try and speak to her.

«Bitsy?»

«Yes?»

«Will you and Lucius get… married?»

Bitsy seems surprised and thinks about it a bit.

«He hasn’t proposed, yet. But I can hope so, I think?»

«Does he make you happy?»

«Yes, he does.» she answer with no hesitation. Kat looks at Sara, probably about to ask her questions as well, but then she seems to decide she won’t, maybe she’s too intimidating yet. Sara gives her a puzzled look.

«I hope you are happy.»

«Well this is sweet of you, thank you. I hope the same for you.» Bitsy gently touches her nose, making the child laugh, and so this conversation ends and everyone starts laughing and chatting up again.

What he didn’t consider is that putting three troubled children in a room and leaving them unsupervised _might_ lead to trouble. So when he notices that the kids have disappeared and are not making noise he’s quite startled.

«Laszlo?»

Laszlo very slowly turns his head towards him. His eyes are glistening in a dignified state of intoxication, but he’s lucid enough to listen:

«Mh?»

«Where are the children?»

When he realizes he suddenly pales and seems to go back to sobriety in a few seconds:

« _Scheiße!_ Sara, _Sara_ , we need to search for the children.»

« What? »

« Stevie, Kat and Joseph. Have you seen them? »

« Yes, you  _ apes _ . Right there. »

A nd she points at the armchairs that are in front of her, but beside John and Laszlo: and yes, the children are there.

_ Napping _ .

« What happened? »

S ara chuckles.

« None of them can hold whiskey, it seems. Don’t worry, they drank just a little bit, just a taste. »

J ohn observes them and his jaw almost drops: they look so peaceful, Kat’s head resting on Stevie’s chest but her hand stretched towards Joseph. They look like angels.

« Aren’t they lovely? I think that Joseph and Kat will become best friends if they adjust their attitude a little. »

« Yes, they are. »

John turns his head, looks at Laszlo and Sara who are watching the kids and smiling in pride. And maybe he should say something about having drunken kids stumbling around, but honestly: when is he _ever_ going to see Joseph so quiet with Kat?


	18. March 1898 - June 1898

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I don't know what to say. I'm excited and happy I managed to post it all, and at the same time kinda sad.  
> Thank you for keeping on reading!

_March 1898_

It turns out: Joseph and Kat _can_ actually get along, if they put their minds to it. Stevie is not that happy about it (John can understand him but there’s no need to tell him), but he realizes that the situation was worse before.

So John is quite puzzled when the boy returns home from an errand with his friends whit a grim look on his face.

«Hey. What happened?»

Joseph licks his lips and doesn’t look at him.

«You’re not going to like it.»

«What happened? Did someone get in trouble? Are the cops going to come?»

A shake of the boy’s head.

«No, not like that. It’s about… ugh. I don’t know how to say it…»

«Just… say it?»

Joseph sighs and lifts his gaze.

«The Doctor asked Miss Howard to go to the Opera with him tonight. Kat said… she asked about you and he said he wanted to be with her alone.»

John tries to keep a calm facade. He won’t look scared (both by the implications of the other two going to the Opera alone and the fact that Joseph perceives it as a tragedy for him) in front of the boy.

«And this is an incredible tragedy because…?»

«Come _on_ ! I _know_ what it means to you. Kat… Kat also said, her words not mine, she said “ _I really hope they fuck_ ”.»

«Well, this implies nothing but that her language is still far from being appropriate.»

He’s straight up lying, but he won’t admit anything to the boy. _Anything_.

«You’re not fooling me, so please, _please_ , spare it. I just thought it was fair that you knew.»

Joseph doesn’t wait for any reply before heading to his room.

John is not surprised. He knew it would happen: he’s known for almost two years. And even if it wasn’t Sara, he knew that one day another woman might have come along. At least it’s Sara. At least, it’s a woman he can’t disapprove of.

He just hoped it would be easier to feel happy for them, instead of miserable and disgruntled.

_June 1898_

Sara gives him the happy news a couple of days before Laszlo’s birthday, when he goes to her office for a coffee and some interesting news for the _Times_.

«John. There is something you… should know.»

John doesn’t play the fool.

«I already know, you two are in love.»

She sighs. Her gaze lowers.

«I don’t think he… is. But we’re trying and I guess this is as good as it gets.»

John nods.

«So I’ll soon be the last eligible bachelor in New York city. What a damnation. Are we going to have a toast to your marriage?»

«We’ll wait for Thursday for that. You know, when _he’s_ also present.»

_June 1898 (a couple of days later)_

If there was one word to define this whole Delmonico’s dinner with their whole party, Rupert and Theodore included, it would be _awkward_ – at least to him. Maybe because there is a feeling of expectancy in the air, maybe because John actually doesn’t want to be there, maybe because Laszlo acts as if anything is normal – just a birthday like the last forty-two he had (well, maybe not exactly _the last two_ , but those before, those were _normal_ ). Sara smiles fondly at him and the rest of the company doesn’t seem to suspect a thing.

When the desserts, apricot cake, chocolate mousse, wild berries pudding, have all arrived, Laszlo stands up and clears his throat, and everyone else stares at him in confusion.

«Ladies and gentlemen. Friends. I’m glad to share this lovely evening with you, and I thank you for making my birthday way less grim than those that preceded it.»

Someone chuckles, John suspects it’s Bitsy. How can Lucius stand her is beyond him.

«I have an important announcement to make.» he glances down at Sara who gives him a grin that says _do it now or I’ll shoot you on the spot_ and then he smiles at the whole table.

«On New Year’s Eve our dear Picton here present made me reflect on an important part of our… fruitful partnership and on how it might further develop. I owe him the realization of how much you, the whole lot of you, truly matter to me and how lucky I am to have you all in my life. Especially _one_ of you, who kept on fighting when even John and I had lost all hope.»

John can feel his heart break a little as Laszlo glances down again. Oh, Sara can try and tell herself _he loves me not_ all she wants: it’s just that he’s chronically incapable of properly showing affection. John has already seen that little sparkle at the bottom of the deep pits his eyes are, and if with Mary he couldn’t recognize its meaning, he _knows_ now.

«Now we all know how much our Sara is important. Strong, willful, a ray of light amidst the darkness we too often navigate...»

«Cut the crap. We’re getting married next year.»

Sara apparently got a little frustrated, but she looks like she just stated the time. There is a single moment of heavy silence, before Theodore bursts out:

«Thank God, _finally_!»

Everyone, John included, starts laughing, as Bitsy turns to a shocked Lucius with the smuggest grin on her face:

«Told you I’d won the bet!»

Laszlo is still standing, a little disappointed, looking at his now fiancee while she reciprocates smiling. She then taps on his chair, and he obediently sits. John smiles and for a moment it doesn’t even feel forced.

He _can_ be happy for them, he thinks.

The conversation resume, with a new enthusiasm in all the people – everyone wants to know something, when will it be, what kind of rite (Catholic apparently since Sara has no close relatives who might disapprove and neither of them care _but Laszlo’s sister does_ ), has Sara already prepared the gown?, all these kind of things.

«Well, the weirdest part of it will be having Stevie and Kat under the same roof. We’ll have to be very careful, or we’ll get to have grandchildren before natural children.»

«Yes, my sister is coming, I can’t wait to see my nephews again.»

«Elizabeth doesn’t disapprove, trust me.»

«Do you _seriously_ think we should hire a soprano?»

John looks at them – looks at Laszlo, distracted by their friends asking him _so many_ things. He’s smiling and relaxed and he looks… if not happy, contented. He sometimes gives quick looks at Sara, as to check if she’s still by his side, and John can’t help but think that he loves in the same way he does everything else: methodically passionate.

«John? Can I talk with you alone for a moment?»

«You usually don’t ask. Of course, do you want to go out?»

Laszlo nods, and so out they go. He turns around and faces John, his eyes – _his goddamn black eyes, so deep one can get lost and discover a whole new universe,_ _the only stargazing John is interested in_ – full of expectancy and a vague sense of anxiety.

«Will you… _fick das ist schwieriger als sie zu fragen_ … will you be my best man?»

John is actually surprised he felt the need to ask. He smiles and nods.

«Of course, there was no need to ask. Who else, if not me?»

«Are you… fine? With it?»

«Laszlo. I have _never_ been happier for you.»

He had already said something similar – so much time ago. He already knew it would happen, and resigned it was the only way things could go. They just danced around each other, for quite enough time, and now it’s good that they finally started dancing _together_.

«Are you sure you want to marry her? She didn’t seem convinced of your feelings.»

«It’s… hard. It shouldn’t have been this way, but… I do want her. It’s just hard not to think it’s wrong, after… _everything_.»

John nods again, sympathetic. He will be a good friend. He _will_.

«Thank you, John. I really owe you one.»

«Well, maybe one day you’ll return the favor.»

They laugh together, and Laszlo shake his head.

«I don’t see that day coming, but a man can hope.»


	19. EPILOGUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end, apparently.

_May 1899_

They look _radiant_. Sara is just… astonishing.

John’s heart finds no relief in this, but at least the pain has numbed. He’s come to term with reality – he managed to stand still in the big ass decorated church (the Catholics all have a rococo taste it seems) as the only man he’s ever loved for _fucking decades_ was exchanging vows with Sara Howard of all women – oh what a great idea it was to introduce them to each other, wasn’t it? _What a splendid idea_. And he also managed to eat and drink and laugh at the party, to dance with some ladies (not Bitsy. He will _never_ dance with her he swears) and he’s currently enjoying a smoke alone in a recondite corner of the gardens of the restaurant.

And he’s definitely not thinking about the fact that he’s alone.

Or that he will never get to have what Sara has.

Sara will get to wake up next to Laszlo every day. Does she at least realize how _lucky_ she is? She will get to have him – not his cold, iconoclastic public persona, his intense, warm, funny private one. She gets to kiss him, to hold him, to sleep with him. John closes his eyes, tries hard to dismiss the thoughts filling his mind – _he’ll have time tonight to think about them fucking, Jesus_ – but his mind won’t just listen, and now his mood is ruined.

_Why does she get to know what he tastes like and what it feels like to have his arm around? To hear him moan in pleasure and have his kisses leaving trails on damp skin? He’ll find her weaker spots and make her cry his name way before he even whispers hers._

«Fuck it all. God I hope You’re at least having fun.»

He shouldn’t mock the Lord like this, but the Lord is mocking him anyway.

«Oh, there you are!»

When he turns around he’s surprised.

«Oh. Hello Joseph.»

The boy smiles.

«Can I stay here with you?»

John nods. Of course he can. Joseph keeps on smiling.

«Us two alone again, uh?»

«So it seems.»

Joseph nods.

«You know… neither of us is happy now. But it’s fine. We will be. Any pain can pass.»

«Playing the wise man again, Joseph?»

«Nah, just the hopeful man. We are not alone and we’ll always have each other, so… there’s hope. I’ll find some fancy lady who wants to adopt me and oh well, she’ll have to buy the whole package.»

John lets out a little laugh. He’s, _indeed_ , a lucky man, and he keeps on forgetting what he _has_ while he loses himself in what he doesn’t.

«Well thank you, love.»

«No problem.»

He stares at the restaurant, at the people dancing and partying. They’re alive. They can do good and be happy again. There’s hope.

_They’re alive._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really, really thankful to every single person who found the time and the will to read this. You all are amazing. Kudos to you!


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